Fifty Shades: Under Contract
by MidnightsLady
Summary: At her graduation, Ana told Christian she'd try to be his sub. This is my version of what may have happened had Christian pushed her to sign the contract that night instead of allowing her more time to think it over.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In the first book, Ana told Christian she'd try being his submissive at her graduation. Of course, he gives her more time to think it over and she never signs the contract. I wondered how things may have progressed had she signed and officially become his sub. How long can Ana follow Christian's rules? How will Christian deal with his feelings for his sub?

This story picks up the night of her graduation when he comes over to iron out the 'soft limits' and seal the deal. The very first part is directly from the book just to setup the scene. But don't worry; I won't be making a habit of regurgitating the book word-for-word. I just need to put things in context. The story will be AU after that, although I'm sure I'll use pieces and parts of canon.

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We've been going through the soft limits for what feels like hours. It is so surreal. Honestly it's like he's negotiating a business arrangement. The thought is depressing. _You are a business arrangement,_ my oh-so-helpful subconscious snarks.

He pauses and waits patiently while I read through the list of punishments he's just flipped over to – like I haven't memorized that disturbing list already. It's burnt into my brain - _thank you very much_. Luckily, my subconscious is too terrified by the looks of it to even try being snarky again.

Finally, Christian speaks, breaking through my building panic.

"Well, you said no to genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most."

I blanch.

"We can work up to that."

"Or not do it at all," I whisper.

"This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won't push you too far."

"This punishment thing, it worries me the most." My voice is very small.

"Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with everything else, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow."

I swallow, and he leans forward and kisses me on my lips.

"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

I shrug, my heart in mouth again. Then he pulls out a pen and I nearly swallow said heart.

He quickly strikes through 'suspension', 'fisting' and 'genital clamping' – efficiently initialing the changes as he goes. Yes, this is exactly like negotiating a business deal. _A very bizarre business deal._

"You said you would try, Anastasia," he says softly as he holds the pen and the contract over to me.

He looks a bit anxious, but I can guarantee I have him beat on that front. But there's something about the hope and vulnerability in his burning gaze… I can't disappoint this man. I did give my word. I said I would try.

I take the contract and the pen – which is heavy, bears his initials, and is probably worth more than my car, I think bitterly. With a shaking hand I flip back through the paperwork, noting that the previously agreed upon changes are still intact. The crazy food provisions have been struck through, along with the changes to the sleeping and exercise schedule.

I flip back to the last page and close my eyes, taking one huge breath. I am both glad and disappointed that my subconscious is not screaming her head off at me to stop this madness. Truthfully, I think she has passed out. My inner goddess, on the other hand, is acting like a child who has had way too much sugar - bouncing up and down and begging me to sign.

So, I do it. I put pen to paper and I sign_: Anastasia R. Steele May 26, 2011_

Christian lets out a long, shaky sigh from beside me. I think he's been holding his breath. I sit stunned, gazing down at my hands, barely registering when he slides the paper and the pen over to himself. I can hear a quick scratching noise as he quickly signs and dates, officially declaring himself my Dom.

_What have you done, you IDIOT?! _My subconscious has apparently found some smelling salts, but she's a bit too slow on the draw.

Before I have a chance to think or do anything else, I am crushed in Christian's arms. He hugs me fiercely, then reaches up to place a hand on either side of my face and tips my head back as he presses his lips to mine in a deep, possessive, almost bruising kiss.

Whatever sane thoughts I have are immediately lost in the onslaught of his passion. This man knows exactly how to make my body bend to him and take away all of my better senses. Even my subconscious at her sternest is no match for full-on amorous Christian.

"Oh Ana," he whispers fervently against my ear. "Thank you for giving me this chance. I promise that you will not regret it. I will show you a whole new world, baby," he promises.

With a firm grip to my upper arms he pushes me back so that I can see his face. His smile is electrifying. He's so beautiful it takes my breath away. I have never seen him so full of joy. _Is he always this happy when a new sub signs her contract?_

"Miss Steele," he nearly purrs. "I don't recall granting you permission to look at me."

All the blood drains from my face. Oh god. He's serious about all those rules. _Of course he is, you moron! What did you expect?_

His smile is still in place and I relax a little, but I quickly cast my eyes downward away from his face. I so love to look at this face, but - in for a penny, in for a pound. This is what I signed up for.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"Sorry, what?" he says. He doesn't sound angry, but there is a definite air of authority in his tone.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I amend in a low whisper.

"Good girl," he says proudly as he places a finger beneath my chin. "Now look at me."

I peek up at him through my lashes. His gray eyes are still dancing with joy and he smiles at me. I can feel my misgivings melting a little under his warm regard.

"See, I told you I would go slowly with you, Anastasia. I know you haven't done this before. I will earn your trust. You'll see."

I return his smile, not sure of what to say. My thoughts are completely scattered. It's almost like none of this is real. Like it is happening to someone else and I'm just watching.

He gracefully rises and holds out a hand to me. "Come," he says, "I have something I'd like to show you before I take you to bed."

He drapes his jacket over my shoulders and heads for the door, leading me by the hand. "I got you a graduation present," he says in reply to my silent query. "As my sub, I will expect you to accept it graciously. I will be very displeased if you attempt to defy me in this matter." There is suddenly a hard edge in his voice. It has begun.

Parked outside is a red hatchback car, a two-door compact Audi. I am not surprised.

"Happy graduation," he says as he puts an arm around me and squeezes lightly. He looks extremely smug and proud of himself, and part of me longs to bring him down a peg or two. I shudder to think how much that thing must have cost. I was crazy thinking I could do this. I'm so angry with him right now.

_But you just signed the contract two seconds ago_, my inner goddess whines at me. _You have to at least give it a chance. Pleeeaasse!_ She's on her knees, begging. I'm beginning to realize that she has absolutely no shame.

"Thank you for the car, sir," I say as sweetly as I can manage.

His lips are in a thin line and the hard glint is back in his eyes. It is obvious that he is not entirely pleased with my reaction.

_That's because he expects you to swoon and spread your legs like a proper whore._

I'd argue back with the harpy if I didn't agree with her. I can't do this. I can't be his kept woman. Christian can call this arrangement whatever he likes, but a hooker under contract is exactly what I am to him. I want to cry.

"Look at me, Anastasia," he commands, though his tone is soft. "Do you not like it?" he asks. "I can buy you something else if you prefer. Saab also makes a very reliable, very safe car. If you'd like, I can take you shopping for one of those." There is a certain desperation in his manner and I realize that he truly wants to please me. I am so confused by this man. Will I ever figure him out?

"It's lovely," I say simply, trying to manage a smile. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed by all of this. This car probably cost more than I'll make in an entire year. It's a huge adjustment," I say with a shrug, hoping he will understand my position.

He runs a hand through his hair. He's frustrated with me, I can tell.

"You must get over this, Ana. You are mine now and I take care of what is mine. You _will_ have the best. Unless you'd prefer a Saab, I will consider this matter closed."

Oooh, he's so bossy and formal! I have the urge to laugh at him, although I highly doubt that would be considered appropriate in his present mood.

"I like the Audi," I say, trying to suppress my grin. "Thank you, sir."

He smiles back at me, apparently mollified for the moment.

"Good. Now let's get you into bed and see about furthering your training."

There's a wicked gleam in his eyes and I am both excited and a bit afraid at once. I never know what he has in mind.

"Oh, I'm all about pleasure tonight, Miss Steele," he assures me with a wink. He really can read me my mind it seems.

As soon as we're back indoors he pulls his jacket from my shoulders and hangs it on the rack by the door. "Go to the bedroom and take all your clothes off… except for the shoes," he orders smoothly. "I'll be right behind you."

All the muscles below my waist clench and my blood races in anticipation. Perhaps this deal wasn't a mistake after all.

I hurry to do his bidding, quickly shedding myself of Kate's dress and my panties, but leaving on my borrowed high-heeled pumps. I am not sure what to do with myself when I'm finished so I perch on the edge of my bed, waiting. _What's keeping him?_ It's not like my apartment is large and almost everything has already been packed away.

I'm almost ready to combust with lust and nervous anticipation by the time he comes casually strolling through the door. His eyes burn as they settle on me.

"You're biting your lip, Anastasia," he says sternly. "You know what that does to me. You wouldn't be deliberately teasing me, now would you?"

I immediately release my lip from between my teeth. I didn't even realize I was doing it. It's simply ingrained habit. "No, sir," I gasp as my body floods with desire at his heated gaze. He's still fully dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt. It makes me much more aware of my own nudity and I blush furiously. I can acutely feel that the balance of power lies strictly in his favor… _it's so hot._

"Stand up," he commands softly. "I want to look at you."

I do as I'm bid and stand up, praying that I don't stumble on Kate's heels. Miraculously I manage to do so halfway gracefully. Miracles never cease. I stand there nervously as he looks me over. I have to make a conscious effort not to bite my lip again.

"You're fidgeting," Miss Steele. "You should be much more confident in yourself. You look absolutely stunning. Those legs alone are a sight for sore eyes."

_Stunning?_ Oh god, sometimes he can be so charming.

"Are you wet for me?" he asks bluntly. He really has no boundaries.

"Yes," I mumble, my face flaming with embarrassment.

"Just 'yes'" he prompts darkly.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I like it when you're wet for me. But you have to show me this time. I'll need to see some proof." He sounds devious. Like the devil himself.

I gaze up at him in confusion. I hope that is okay. I'm still not clear on when permission to look at him expires. Apparently I am still allowed, because he gives me a genuine, although still quite predatory, smile.

"Oh Anastasia, you are still so innocent. I'm going to have such fun training you to please me." He takes a couple of steps closer so that he is barely an arm's reach away. "Turn around and bend over," he orders in a husky voice.

I turn around and bend over, my bare behind is high in the air. My pulse is racing. I can definitely play this game. Oh yes. I _want_ to play this game.

"You need to spread your legs further apart," he growls and I do as I'm bid and shuffle my legs open, all the while concentrating on not turning my ankle in these heels.

"Now I want you to spread those delectable ass cheeks and let me see if you really are as wet and ready for me as you claim."

I gasp. My god this is embarrassing! But I also feel a thrill and another rush of moisture as I follow his command. The way his breath hisses between his teeth nearly causes me to climax right then and there. Suddenly, I feel very powerful.

"Oh Ana," he says reverently. "You are _so_ wet and ready. I can see your juices glistening from here. You have no idea how happy that makes me."

He stands there gazing at me for a long moment, and then I hear the sound of his zipper coming down and the familiar rip of the foil that holds a condom. He's going to fuck me with all of his clothes on. _Why is that such a turn on?_

"Put your hands on the bed," he growls before burying himself deeply within me in one hard thrust. I'm so glad Kate's not home to hear me cry out.

"I'm going to fuck you very hard, Anastasia. You'll need to hold on tight. Are you ready?"

I whimper and wiggle my behind in reply. He pulls back and slams back into me roughly. "I asked you a question, Miss Steele."

"Yes, sir," I gasp breathlessly. "I'm ready…. Please."

He begins slamming into me and I really have to keep a tight grip on the mattress to keep from being knocked off my feet. He's barely started and I can already feel my orgasm building within me.

"You must ask for permission to come," he says, obviously sensing that I'm very close. He knows my body better than I do. It really is unfair. "I want you to beg me, Anastasia and I want you to address me as Mr. Grey when you do so."

It's so humiliating, but right now I don't care. I'm like a mad woman. All I can think of is the building pressure between my legs.

"Please, Mr. Grey," I beg between harsh breaths. "Please sir… pl-please let me come." I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

"Come, Anastasia. Come for me, baby. Give it to me. I want to feel it NOW."

At his command my body begins to fall apart around him and I realize that I've lost my grip on the side of the bed and am now face down on the mattress. He keeps a hard grip on my hips as he continues to pound into me. Then with a loud groan, he calls out my name and spills himself into me.

"Oh baby," he says as spins me around and flops down on the bed, holding me against his chest. I can hear and feel his heart pounding beneath my cheek. He grips me tightly and leans down to press a tender kiss against the top of my head. "You've made me a very happy man today," he says breathlessly. "A _very_ happy man. You have no idea, Ana. I cannot even begin to describe it."

His words make me so happy. He sounds so sincere. Maybe I do mean something to him? For the moment I allow myself to enjoy being wrapped in his arms, to feel safe and warm. But deep down, I know a storm is coming. I know this contract will not come without consequences.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am so sorry for not responding to all the lovely reviews. Labor Day weekend was hectic and I assumed you guys would rather have a new chapter than a response to the reviews. Unfortunately I was too busy for both. I promise to respond next time. I do appreciate them all, very much.

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I must have drifted away for a moment lying on Christian's chest. I am frankly amazed that sleep is even possible given all my anxiety over the contract I just signed, but Christian-sex tends to take it out of a girl – to say the least. Besides, he smells so heavenly and the afterglow was so peaceful and tender, I couldn't help but relax.

_It's almost like you're an 'actual' girlfriend._

Great. She's back and she's holding up the contract, wearing a pair of reading glasses and a sour look on her face. Sometimes I wish she'd take a permanent vacation to Outer Mongolia.

"Sleep, baby," Christian says in a whisper as he eases me off of his chest, pulls a blanket over me, and stands up.

_What? No!_

"Are you leaving?" I ask, suddenly wide awake.

He zips his fly back up and straightens his clothes. He looks like he just stepped off the pages of a magazine even with freshly fucked hair (_especially with freshly fucked hair_). I shudder to think what I look like in contrast. My hair probably looks like the Bride of Frankenstein's.

"Yes, I have a meeting in Seattle at 8A.M. I'll need to leave very early in the morning if I'm to make it. Now, do as you're told and get some sleep," he orders before pressing a soft kiss against my temple. "You have a long day tomorrow."

I sit up, clutching the blanket against my breasts, and look at the bedside clock. It's only 9P.M.

"I'm not a toddler, Mr. Grey. I don't even have school in the morning. I just graduated," I say a bit tartly.

"Smart mouth again, already, Miss Steele?" He quirks a brow at me and smirks, but there is humor in his eyes. Thank heavens.

I shrug my shoulders petulantly and peek up at him shyly through my lashes. Perhaps I'll play him at his own game.

"I was hoping Sir would stay and make love to me again," I say softly before very deliberately biting my lip.

"Oh Anastasia, you are attempting to play me," he scolds in a low growl. "I'd love to stay and teach you a lesson for that, but I vowed not to touch you again until I have you in my playroom. Consider yourself reprieved… just this once."

_The playroom? Crap!_ How can this man sound so threatening and sexy at the same time?

"When do you start your period?" he asks seriously as he bends to scoop up his used condom from my bedroom floor.

Okay, very personal question and a complete 180 degree turn in conversation. Where the heck did _that_ come from?

"Well? I asked you a question, Anastasia. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Um… next week, I think," I mutter, embarrassed.

"You _think_? Don't you know your own cycle?" He does not sound happy.

I frown at him. "It comes once a month, I don't exactly count the days. Never needed to," I add with a shrug.

A very self-satisfied smile creeps across his features. "Fair point well made, Miss Steele. As always. But now you _do_ need to keep track," he adds more seriously. "I insist on it."

"Yes, sir," I mutter. I'm sure I am ten shades of crimson from his casual regard of such intimate personal details. "May I ask why you're suddenly so interested?"

"Because I hate these damn things," he says holding up the condom. He sounds exasperated, like I'm asking the world's silliest question. "You need better contraception. Do you have a doctor?"

"No." I'm sure that's the wrong answer.

"You should have a doctor," he scolds. _Big surprise._ "I'll arrange for you to see mine. I'm sure I can have him drop by my place early Saturday morning. You two can sort everything out while I pick up my sister at the airport."

Pick up his sister? That's news. And wait – he expects me to be at his place Saturday morning?

"Christian, I have to move to Seattle tomorrow. It will probably take me really late into Friday evening and we'll still have a lot of unpacking to take care of on Saturday." He doesn't look happy… _again. _"I can't just abandon Kate to do it on her own," I plead.

"Elliot will be there for Miss Kavanagh and I'll arrange for someone else to transport and unpack your things for you," he says. "In fact, Taylor can do it. He needs to be here to collect that old junker of yours anyway. He will sell it and get you a fair price. Just make sure all your boxes are clearly labeled."

Holy hell, that's a lot to process. I don't want Taylor unpacking my things even if he has bought me underwear before! Rich people are very strange, I've decided. They are far too comfortable with allowing others to do personal things for them. And I can sell Wanda myself. I'm not completely helpless.

"Anastasia, you're scowling at me. It seems a signed contract has done very little to make you less eager to defy me." He looks a bit confused by that idea. "I have a feeling that delectable bottom of yours is going to stay very, very red in the near future. I'm looking forward to it," he adds with excitement shining in his gray eyes.

Again, I'm both frightened and aroused by the prospect. All these conflicting emotions are exhausting. Christian Grey is exhausting.

"Christian, please. I want to help Kate. I _need_ to help Kate. She's my best friend, it's only right. And she's going to Barbados soon; I won't see her for a while." I know I sound like a whiny teen, but this man is so far beyond frustrating it's ridiculous.

He rolls his eyes. _Why is he allowed to do that?_

"You'll be with her all day tomorrow while I'm working. With Elliot and Taylor around to do all the heavy lifting, you two ladies can sit back, relax, and spend some quality time together. Also, I'm fairly certain you'll be seeing her Sunday evening as well. You signed the contract, Anastasia," he reminds me sternly. "Your time is mine from Friday evening through Sunday. That is no longer negotiable."

I don't respond. My mind is in a whirl. Between the idea of Taylor unpacking my unmentionables and all the anxiety and excitement surrounding my first official weekend as Christian's sub, my brain has begun to shut down. And – oh yeah – what does he mean he's 'fairly certain' I'll see Kate Sunday evening? Of course I will! We do live together and I should be home by then. I happen to know the terms of the contract too. Mentally, I stick my tongue out at him.

"Come here," he commands. "I need to be going and I'd like a proper goodbye."

I scoot out from under the covers and scramble rather ungracefully to my feet. I'm suddenly very aware of my nakedness again. It's so much worse when you're the only one. But then he completely distracts me when he pulls me into his arms and kisses me very slowly and sensuously.

My brains are scrambled and I'm a bundle of sexual need by the time he pulls back. He holds me at arm's length and looks down at me with lust and admiration in his eyes. I affect him too! My inner goddess curtsies.

"You're very tempting. You severely test the limits of my self-control," he remarks sourly.

_Then stay here with me!_

"Be at Escala by six tomorrow evening. Be late and believe me… _you will make my day_," he adds with a devious grin.

"If you'll give me a minute to put something on, I'll walk you out," I say sullenly. _Why can't he just stay?_

I turn to grab the sweats I'd laid aside for tonight and OUCH! He plants a hard, stinging slap on my backside. Holy crap, that smarts! I let out a rather undignified squeal in response.

I spin around and he his smirking at me, looking impossibly smug. Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous and so infuriating?

"You're getting off easy, Miss Steele," he says with amusement dancing in his eyes. "In the last five minutes, you've committed enough misdemeanors with your pouty little attitude to earn yourself a good hiding. Don't think I haven't noticed that you've addressed me by my first name twice."

My face falls. I can't call him 'Christian' anymore? Ever? Yes, it is in the contract, but I am struck by how much I really do not like that idea.

"It's fine," he says, reading my mind once more. "I actually like it when you use my first name." He crinkles his brow as he speaks, looking surprised by the revelation. "_Sometimes_," he adds.

Great. How am I supposed to know when I'm allowed to call him 'Christian' and when I'm more likely to have my backside set on fire?

_Perhaps you should ask for a revised contract with timetables and graphs? You can even add a nifty little calendar to track your menstrual cycle. You can initial each day and have Mr. Grey sign-off on it monthly, _my subconscious snarks helpfully. Stupid, sarcastic witch!

I quickly pull on a pair of sweats and a cotton camisole so that I can walk Mr. Grey – sometimes known as 'Christian', sometimes known as 'Sir'- to the door. He was right. I do need to go to bed early. All these mental acrobatics have made me utterly exhausted!

_The physical acrobatics were pretty exhausting too and in a VERY good way,_ my inner goddess pipes up. Maybe_ I_ should be the one seeing a psychiatrist? I have far too many voices in my head.

As I stand in the doorway with him, I can't look him in the eye. I suddenly want to cry. What have I accomplished aside from setting myself up for a major mindfuck and an inevitable broken heart? He doesn't even want to stay with me now that he's done fucking me for the night. I'm a merger and acquisition – signed, sealed, and delivered.

"Ana, look at me," Christian says softly, using his index finger to tip my head back. His gaze is probing. "Why do I never know what you're thinking?"

"Maybe because _I_ don't even know what I'm thinking," I offer weakly.

"You've made me a very happy man tonight," he says sincerely. "I will make this work, baby. I've never wanted anything more. Trust me, please."

_He's never wanted anything more!_

I smile up at him, but my mood is soured a bit when I realize I can't hug him like I want. There are still all the weird touching rules to contend with. Contract or not, that needs to be addressed.

He once again displays his amazing ability to read minds when he takes my arms and places them around his neck and embraces me tightly around the waist, crushing me to his chest as he presses his nose into my hair and breathes deeply.

"What have you done to me, Anastasia Steele? You severely test my resolve." He pushes me away from him and gives me one of his most dazzling smiles. "I'd best be going. Otherwise, I won't be going anywhere."

"Then don't," I whisper.

He shakes his head and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. "Always so eager, you have no idea what that means to me…. Tomorrow night, baby."

His last three words are full of so much sensual promise, it takes my breath away.

Once he's gone, I nearly collapse right there on my living room floor. I'm excited, worried, happy, worried, aroused, confused… and did I mention 'worried'?

More than anything I wish I had time to think and process, but I don't. I need to label my stupid boxes and then I have to be up early, because even if Taylor is coming, I'm going to help with the move. Christian can just deal with it. He can't tell me that I can't participate in moving my own belongings and unpacking my own underwear. That's a hard limit!

Besides, the image of me reclining on a chaise lounge, wearing giant sunglasses, and sipping a fancy cocktail while everyone else works is just WAY too ridiculous to seriously ponder. Although, I'm thinking Kate may be all for that plan. She'll probably think I'm dumb for not taking Christian up on his offer, so the both of us can sit around all day and let the men do the work. She's used to having people do things for her though. I, on the other hand, am not.

I don't care if I'm the girlfriend – _er, sub_ – of a megalomaniac, billionaire CEO. I carry my own weight. Always have, always will. I HAVE to hold onto that or I'll lose myself completely.

XXXXXXXXXX

It's nearly midnight by the time I fall into bed. I am utterly exhausted to my very core. I had to face the Katherine Kavanagh inquisition when she came in from dinner with Elliot tonight. She could tell I'd cried a little and she's already so suspicious of Christian anyway. Those two are going to seriously butt heads and I'm going to be caught smack dab in the middle.

She really should be a field reporter – maybe even in a worn torn country. That girl could badger the truth out of the world's sternest dictator. I'm quite proud of the fancy footwork I worked in order to satisfy her while not violating the terms my NDA.

I think I managed to convince her (for the moment) that I'm simply overwhelmed by all the big changes in my life – which is true. I'm moving, I just graduated from college, just lost my virginity, and I'm in my first 'sort of' real relationship. The list is endless, really.

I'm longing for my pillow, but longing for Christian more, so I fire up the mean machine to see if there are any messages from him. Of course - if there aren't - I'll probably cry myself to sleep, I think bitterly.

I smile when I see that there are, in fact, two. I read them in the order they came in. The latest one is only about a minute old.

**From:** Christian Gray  
**Subject:** Amazing and Beautiful Young Women  
**Date:** May 26, 2011 22:15  
**To:** Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

I know I have already told you how happy I am that you decided to trust me, but it bears repeating. You take my breath away.

Now, finish labeling your boxes and go to bed.

Laters, baby.

Christian Grey  
Ecstatic CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

XXXXX

**From:** Christian Gray  
**Subject:** Crickets  
**Date:** May 26, 2011 23:47  
**To:** Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

Since you did not reply to my previous message, I will assume that you have done as you were told and are, at this very moment, sleeping soundly. If not, GO TO BED! That is not a request.

I am looking forward to tomorrow evening more than you can possibly imagine and trust me, you'll want to be well-rested ;)

Sweet dreams.

Christian Grey  
Demanding and Horny CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXX

He's so ridiculously bossy with his shouty capitals, but he's also being playful Christian at the moment. A very irresistible combination. I can't contain my smile as I shut the machine down and crawl under the covers.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Most of you may have guessed that this is not a story about romantic 'hearts and flowers' Christian. At least it won't be at first. He got what he wanted – at least what he got what he *thinks* he wanted. Expect massive confusion and mixed signals on his part. I'm sure he'll probably be insufferably domineering for a while and Ana will be attempting to fulfill her promise to 'try'. Meaning, she's not going to put her foot down as often or as firmly as she should at first. I'm trying to explore the path not taken, so to speak. It will not always be pretty - Fair warning. Also, I am not part of the D/s lifestyle and will probably make quite a few errors due to that.

Again, thanks so much for all the reviews and support.

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Jose decided to come and help us out with the move. It was a really nice gesture and I'd be more grateful for it and more glad to see him… _if he hadn't decided to bring me flowers!_

That's just what I need right now. My life is clearly not complicated enough already. Plus, what the heck am I supposed to do with flowers on a day when all the vases and everything else I own are packed away in boxes? What is he thinking?

He gave me a dozen yellow roses and an accompanying card. Objectively, the card is pretty harmless and not-at-all what I'd call romantic, but I doubt Christian will be objective about it.

_Hey Steele,_

_The florist told me yellow roses are a symbol of friendship (or maybe she was desperate to make a sale). I just wanted to say again how sorry I am for what happened at the club that night. Maybe you remember that time I was the big drunk jerk? _

_Congratulations on your graduation! I hope you and Kate love the new place and have a blast in Seattle. I'd never want to lose either of you as a friend, so don't forget us little undergrads. ;) _

_All the best,_

_Jose_

Argh! And he gave them to me right in front of both Elliot and Taylor, too. Talk about your _double crap_. Like one witness isn't enough. All I need is for 'Master Grey' to throw a big jealous temper tantrum on the eve of my first adventure in the playroom.

I may be VERY late this evening indeed, because I may be changing my name and booking a flight to a foreign country. Of course with his massive stalking capabilities, I doubt that will prove much of a challenge for Christian.

I'm sure it's obvious to Jose that I am embarrassed by the gesture, and the thanks I give him is the textbook definition of 'awkward'. I can tell he's a little hurt by my reaction, but I just don't know what else to do. He's put me in one heck of a bind, which in turn makes me frustrated and very angry with Christian. Jose has been my friend for a long time. Why should I have to feel guilty about accepting a friendly gesture_? _

_I shouldn't!_

Other than that, the day goes by rather smoothly. I have to admit that it is nice to have Taylor there to handle carrying all the boxes and lugging all the furniture. He's incredibly efficient and had the rented moving truck loaded and unloaded almost before I knew what was happening. Even better, each box was placed in the room indicated on the label.

I don't just sit around though. I unpack my personal stuff and put it away in my room, and then go to help Kate unpack and put all the dishes away in the cupboards, the linens in the closets, and those sorts of things. It's the fastest and least painful move I've ever participated in, hands down.

Kate and I have fun too and I can't recall ever seeing her in a better mood. She's so happy in love. It's a bit sickening and I'm wildly jealous of her, seeing as how Elliot seems to be just as smitten. The two of them are so at ease, joking around and teasing one another like teenagers. Elliot even does some playful roughhousing with her and Kate actually eats it up. She giggled and squealed. _Kate!_ I can't believe it.

I'm so happy for her, but it saddens me to know that Christian and I will _never_ be like that. We'll never achieve the same level of comfort and affection. I can't even touch the man without permission. That in itself puts a huge damper on things. It's depressing.

Even so, I'm excited about tonight. Part of me has been dying to get into that playroom since the moment I laid eyes on it. Now I finally have my chance. I've been walking around half-aroused all day just thinking about what he has in store for me. Of course, I'm also incredibly nervous too. What if he hurts me? Will I be able to handle it if he does?

Once again, my mind and my body are at war with one another, each screaming for me to take a totally different path, when in reality it's only possible to take the one. At the moment my body has won the war and the sobering thought is that my heart seems to be firmly on its side.

The very idea terrifies me. I'm beginning to suspect that my feelings for Christian are just as strong as my body's reaction to him, and I am now more afraid of the possibility of emotional pain than I am of the physical.

I have to agree with my crabby old subconscious on this one: _I am, quite literally, fucked any way you look at it._

XXXXXXX

Taylor left for a while to take Wanda away. It was a bittersweet farewell. I had driven my new car to Seattle that morning and, although I'm still uncomfortable with the gift, I will have to admit that it was one sweet, comfortable ride. But, I will miss my faithful old Beetle and could tell that Jose felt the same. I offered to sell her back to him or to his mother, but he declined. That's just as well, because Christian probably wouldn't approve.

_Like that's any of his business!_ My subconscious hisses.

She's right of course, but I feel like I have to pick my battles these days. He's already going to be pissed enough about the flowers. No use adding fuel to the fire. I have to think about my poor backside.

By the time 4P.M. rolls around, all but the most minor tasks have been completed. I decide there's nothing that can't wait until later and head for the shower. I have two hours to try and make myself look pretty and make it to Escala by six. I'm not normally one of those women who take hours to get ready, but I am anxious and want to look my best.

Now, I'm standing in front of the mirror in Kate's plum dress and my subconscious is having second thoughts - when doesn't she?

_What are you doing? You don't want to look too desperate! _ The voice sneers. _This isn't a real date and anything you put on will probably be tossed aside in under two seconds. Maybe you should save yourself the trouble and go naked._

She has a point. Christian is arrogant enough already, I don't need to add fuel to his fire by appearing too over eager. Of course, I suppose, as a sub, that's what I'm expected to do. _Please my master and all that good stuff. _

But no, I'm going to salvage one tiny shred of dignity and wear my standard uniform of jeans, although I'll probably wear my nice, new blue blouse. The one Taylor picked out for me the night I made a spectacular fool out of myself and puked all over everything.

That should be more than sufficient for a ravishing.

I apply a little mascara, blush and lip gloss, try to bring my hair into some semblance of order and declare myself done.

I even have a half hour to spare and am trying to decide when I should leave. God forbid I should be late, but I also don't want to arrive too early. Again, I'm trying to avoid appearing too desperate. It's a very fine line. _Maybe as a sub I'm not supposed to worry about that?_

My train of thought is interrupted by a light rap at my bedroom door.

"It's Taylor, Miss Steele."

I open the door to see that Taylor looks as well pressed and dignified as always. Strange considering he's spent all day lugging furniture around and hauling off old cars.

"Are you almost ready to go?" he asks. "I was planning on leaving shortly."

"It's okay, Taylor," I say with a smile. "You go on ahead. I need to pack a small bag and then I'll be on my way."

"Mr. Grey asked me to bring you," he says. He's polite and professional as usual, giving away nothing.

I'm sure I frown at him. I didn't know I was being chauffeured this evening. To be quite honest, I was hoping to drive my own car, so I could make a quick escape if the weekend turns out to be more than I bargained for.

"Trust me, ma'am. You don't want to drive in Seattle rush hour traffic on a Friday if you don't have to. There are too many people desperate to start their weekend and half of them are horrible drivers. It's a madhouse. I'd feel much better if you let me take you."

_Yeah, you'll feel better since your boss won't bitch you out._

I realize that thought is not entirely fair. Taylor does seem like a nice man. He reminds me a bit of Ray and I certainly don't want him to face Christian's wrath because of me.

"Okay," I relent. "Just give me a quick minute to pack a bag and I'll be right out."

Taylor smiles a bit – relieved, I'm guessing. "Take your time, ma'am. We've still got a few minutes to spare."

XXXXXXXXXX

It's a good thing I only ate one piece of pizza for lunch, because the butterflies in my stomach are threatening to escape. All I need is for Taylor to have to buy me new clothes again.

There is something up with him. He's his usual quiet self, but he keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror every few seconds, almost like he wants to say something, but is hesitant. I'm about to give in and ask him 'What's up?' when he finally breaks his silence.

"Miss Steele, I know it's not my place, but I'd advise you to go ahead and tell Mr. Grey about that boy giving you flowers. You'll probably avoid a lot of misunderstanding that way."

I'm surprised and somehow even more panicked than I was two seconds ago. I'd sort of pushed that little flower episode out of my mind. _Holy crap!_

"Taylor, it wasn't… I mean, I wasn't-"

He cuts into my ramble. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong, ma'am. As far as I'm concerned, everything was on the up-and-up. I'm just saying," he hesitates; I can tell this is not a topic of conversation he's comfortable with. "I'm just saying that it's best to avoid a misunderstanding whenever possible. A lot of times little stuff like this can get blown way out of proportion."

_You mean Mr. Control Freak blows things way out of proportion._

"Thanks Taylor," I mumble distractedly. Now I have even more on my mind.

"Not a problem Miss Steele," he replies, nodding at me in the mirror.

There still seems to be something a little off about him. Is he really _that_ worried about Jose and the flowers or is there something else going on? _Please say there's not something else going on._ My plate is full, thank you very much.

I almost ask him if anything else is wrong, but decide against it. He seemed really uncomfortable with the advice he did give. Perhaps I shouldn't push it. He is Christian's right-hand-man after all.

XXXXXXXX

When we arrive, Taylor opens my door and escorts me up to the penthouse. He's the perfect gentleman, but again, he's giving away nothing. I guess I'll find out soon enough what my fate will be.

"Mr. Grey will be waiting for you in his study," he tells me before dismissing himself to wherever it is he disappears to when he's not doing Christian's bidding.

_Is it my imagination or did he make that sound sort of ominous? _Only one way to find out.

The door to the study is closed, so I knock.

"Come in."

Yes, Christian is definitely in there and he sounds rather brusque this evening. _Uh oh._ I'm thinking maybe I should turn around and call a cab, but find myself opening the door. I just can't help myself, I suppose.

"Is there something wrong with your laptop?" he snaps the moment I step across the threshold. He looks angry. Very angry. _Fuck, he's scary!_

"Um… no… I mean, _no sir_," I add hurriedly. I know I'll never remember to add 'sir' to everything I say. What is he talking about anyway?

"I've been worried sick about you, Anastasia! You haven't returned any of my messages or my texts! If it weren't for Taylor being there, I'd have thought the worst."

_Ohhh, so that's what was up with Taylor._ He knew Christian had his temper up. Jeez, I wish he had warned me that Fifty Shades was on the loose. He kind of did in his own way, I suppose.

"Christian, I-"

"You DO NOT have permission to address me by my first name, Miss Steele. You're lucky you're not over my knee right now."

The sane part of me wants me to run, but apparently I don't do sane these days.

"Mr. Grey," I begin, emphasizing his title. "I am sorry I didn't return your messages. I haven't even turned on my computer today. I've been really busy with the move and," I pause to fish my cell out of my purse. It is set on silent mode. _Holy fucking crap!_

"I had my ringers turned off because I didn't want my phone to go off during graduation yesterday… I guess I forgot to turn them back on afterwards." I mumble the last part. It was an honest mistake, but he's managed to make me feel like an errant child again. "I really didn't know you'd be so worried," I add in my defense.

"Well I _was_ worried, Anastasia! And it's not something I'm used to dealing with. I expect you to answer your messages and keep your phone turned on, is that too much to ask?"

"No, sir." My voice is very quiet and I don't meet his gaze – not that I have permission to anyway.

Honestly, what was he so worried about? I was moving and I was with both Taylor and his brother. It's not like I'd gone missing. Still, there's a part of me that's thrilled he was worried. It must mean he cares for me on some level.

Christian is still furious. He runs his hands through his hair and takes several deep breaths. When he speaks again, his voice his deathly calm – somehow that is way scarier than the yelling.

"Come here," he orders quietly. His eyes are dark with anger. "It's time for your first lesson in discipline. I hadn't planned on introducing it this quickly, but I also hadn't planned on you pulling the stunt you did today. So as usual, Miss Steele, you have forced me to alter my plans. I don't like altering my plans."

I freeze. What should I do? Everything hangs in the balance here. I know I can say 'no'. He has said I can walk away at any time… but he also said it would be over if I did. I don't want it to be over. Not yet. Not until I'm sure I can't give him what he's asking for. This is the moment of truth. It is pay or play time.

"Anastasia," he growls low, "I'm not a patient man. When I ask you to do something, I expect your immediate compliance."

His voice his still so soft. It's terrifying.

I step forward cautiously, my heart in my throat. I am careful to keep my gaze cast downward. No need to piss him off further. He holds his hand up to halt me when I am still several feet away.

"Drop your pants," he commands.

I peek up through my lashes and can see him out of the corner of my vision, and I swear he looks somehow taller and his features are harder than usual. Cold. This is Dominant Christian. The full Fifty Shades in the flesh. I swallow hard and almost mechanically I unbutton my jeans and begin to pull them off my hips.

"Leave the underwear on," he adds.

I can barely hear him over the sound of the blood pounding in my ears, but I obey and do as I'm told. When I start to kick off my Chuck's and step out of my jeans he stops me with another soft command.

"No. Shoes on. I want your jeans around your ankles."

Oh god. _Why?_ That is so much more humiliating for some reason. I suspect that's the point.

I stand there for a long moment with my gaze cast downward and my pants down around my ankles. I can feel his burning gaze on me.

"Take off the shirt too… and your bra." His voice is still calm, but I can sense excitement there too. I really hope I can make it through this.

"Come here," he finally says, holding out a hand to me.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, I place my hand in his and he draws me forward and sits down in his desk chair in one fluid, graceful movement. I, on the other hand, have to shuffle to keep from being tripped by my own jeans.

"Lie down across my lap," he says. His voice is now very breathy. He is extremely turned on. Despite the circumstances, my goddess perks up at that knowledge and urges me to follow his order.

Slowly, without looking directly at him, I lie down across his lap and wait for the storm to begin.

"I am going to spank you, Anastasia," he says smoothly. "Why am I doing this?"

_Seriously? Can't he just get this over with?_

"Because I didn't return your messages and I forgot to turn on my ringers," I hear myself say.

"Will you do that again?"

"No, sir."

His breath catches in his throat and I can feel his erection pressing into me where I am lying across his lap. This really does turn him on apparently.

"I am going to go to fifteen and you are going to count each strike aloud. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

I hold my breath, waiting for the blow, but once again he takes his time. I jump involuntarily, when he finally places his hand on me, but instead of striking me, he caresses my bare behind gently.

"Lie still or I'll spank you for longer," he warns.

Then it comes. A hard stinging slap. I scrunch up my face as not to cry out. Ouch that stings!

"Count Anastasia! Or I will add more strokes."

"_One_," I force out. I can't believe I'm doing this.

The pattern continues. He rubs me tenderly and then strikes, but I can't predict when or where. He wants me off balance, I realize. As the spanking goes along my voice gets louder as I count. "Ten" is a hoarse shout.

"Shout all you want, baby, it's just you and me."

My entire ass is on fire now. I want to curse at him and beg him to stop, but I won't give him the satisfaction of doing either. Five more. I can do five more.

As he continues with my punishment, I realize that somewhere along the line he has pulled my underwear down around my ankles as well. I guess I was too focused on the pain to notice.

"Fifteen!" I scream and my voice cracks from the strain.

The blows stop and I feel him caressing me once again. His breathing is harsh and ragged. My skin is almost numb, but it tingles as he runs his warm hand across it.

He moves down to the tops of my thighs and I gasp loudly when I feel him slide a finger between my legs. It's such a shock to my senses. Like a jolt of electricity spreading through my core.

"_Oh baby," he groans. "You are SO wet for me."_

"No," I whimper. _I can't be. Can I?_

"Yes, Anastasia. You are," he assures me softly. "You're soaking, baby. You want this. That's a very good girl."

He slips two fingers inside me and pumps them as if to illustrate his point. I'm appalled at myself, but I shamelessly writhe against his hand. I feel like it is wrong to feel this way, but my body is rebelling against me. I want him inside of me. I realize I want him to fuck me and I want it now and I want it to be very hard.

"Stand up," he commands, and I rise.

"Look at me," he whispers.

That is harder. Right now I really don't want to look him in the eye. Not after what just happened.

"Anastasia," his tone is once again threatening. I'm being warned.

I look up tentatively and he smiles at me. "You're doing very well," he purrs and I find that actually makes me feel happy.

"You're biting your lip," he observes, but there is humor in his voice. He's apparently worked out most of his anger. I don't wish to tempt fate, however, so I quickly release my lower lip.

"Finish stripping," he says, his eyes burning into mine.

Once again, I do as I'm told.

He stands up and leisurely strips off his own jeans, but leaves his t-shirt on. He never takes his eyes off of me. Then he sits back down in the desk chair and motions me forward.

"You denied that you were wet for me," he says softly, ominously.

_Oh crap! What's he going to do now?_

"I think I need to prove something to you, Miss Steele. I'm going to prove to you how much you want this. _You_ are going to fuck _me _this time."

I'm not sure what he means, so I look up at him. He grins deviously and holds up a condom.

"As soon as I put this on, you're going to straddle me, Anastasia. You're going to be on top this time. You may put your hands on my shoulders."

_Well, at least I get to touch him._

I'm not quite sure how to approach this new position, so I'm sure I look rather awkward as I attempt to mount him. I'm afraid he might be angry at my clumsiness, but he grins at me and pulls me into a quick, but very thorough kiss.

"You have so much to learn, Miss Steele. I'm so lucky I get the honor of teaching you."

He grips my hips firmly and slowly pulls me down onto him. I can't help but groan aloud as he fills me. It feels so incredibly good.

"Oh yeah, baby, feel it. See how ready you are, how easily you slide onto me? That means your mine, Ana." He takes a deep steadying breath before continuing. It's like he's searching for control. "It's really deep this way and I want you to feel every inch and know who you belong to."

I whimper and begin moving, gripping onto his shoulders for leverage. Somehow my body knows what it is doing even if I don't. I feel so deliciously full and stretched in this position.

"Look at me, Ana," Christian orders.

I look into his eyes and he's so beautiful. His gray eyes are dilated with passion. _I'm doing this to him!_

"You feel so good, baby," he groans. "It's like heaven inside you… and I'm the only man who's ever been here. The only man who ever will be here."

_Ever?_

I pick up the pace and begin riding him hard. I'm reminded of my sore behind each time I come down and it makes me even crazier for some unknown reason. Why am I so turned on by this? I should be humiliated. _I am humiliated_, but that doesn't mean I can't feel my insides quickening.

"Come for me, Ana. Show me how much you want this. Let me feel it. Tell me who you belong to!"

His voice is a growl and part of me wants to deny him, but I can't. My body has betrayed me.

"I'm yours," I call out as my body falls apart around him and I'm catapulted into the most shattering orgasm I've ever experienced.

He grabs my hips and continues pumping upward into me as I come.

"You're fucking right your mine!" he exclaims roughly. "Only mine!"

After a few more hard thrusts he stills and calls my name as he lets himself go.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Again so many thanks for the reviews. They really do keep me motivated and if I've failed to reply to any of them, I sincerely apologize. RL is nuts lately.

Kind of OT, but recently I put in one of my all-time favorite albums: Counting Crows - _August and Everything After_. It had been quite a while since I'd listened to it and I was blown away by how much some of the songs reminded me of Christian/Ana, especially the song _Anna Begins_. It's an album I highly recommend owning, but at the least I recommend getting that one song off of iTunes or someplace like that. Here's a snippet of the lyrics.

_She's talking in her sleep.  
It's keeping me awake. And Anna begins to toss and turn.  
And every word is nonsense but I understand and,  
Oh lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing._

_Her kindness bangs a gong,  
It's moving me along. And Anna begins to fade away.  
It's chasing me away. She disappears, and  
Oh lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing._

* * *

I'm completely spent and still straddling Christian as he sits in his desk chair. He holds me tightly, stroking my hair and pressing soft kisses against the top of my head as I drift slowly back to earth. The storm seems to have passed for him as well. He is now tender and gentle again.

I am utterly shattered. That orgasm was the most mind blowing one yet and they've all been pretty damn mind blowing so far. The spanking had something to do with it, I'm sure of it, but I don't understand why that would be. It hurt for one thing. Although it was not as painful as I'd feared it would be. Yet, it was still quite a humiliating experience. I've never felt so confused.

Why did my very first relationship have to be such a total mindfuck? _Perhaps if I was more experienced…_

"Well done, baby," he praises me softly. "Are you okay?"

_I don't know. Maybe?_

"Yes, I'm okay," I whisper back.

My rear end is hot and stinging from the slaps, but I am not technically injured. I suppose that is what he's asking.

He pushes me back slightly from where I'm resting my head limply on his shoulder and supports me by the shoulders. I feel like a wet noodle. I can sense his penetrating gaze on me, but I avoid his eyes.

_You don't have permission to look at him anyway_, my subconscious snaps. She's back and she is really pissed off now. I ignore her. I can't deal with being chastised again so soon, even if I am only doing it to myself this time.

"Come on, sleepy head," he teases, shaking me lightly. "You still need to eat and I have so many plans for your gorgeous little body this evening. It will be quite a while before I allow you to sleep."

It is a sensual warning full of promise and I cannot say I don't look forward to it, but I am also more afraid of the Red Room of Pain than I have ever been.

He stands, easily lifting me along with him as he does, then sets me down on my rather shaky legs.

"Are you sure you're okay, Ana?" he asks again, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You have to tell me these things."

"I'm fine," I answer quietly still looking at my feet, but I know he wants more. I shrug. "Just a bit worn out, I suppose… Think I may need some dinner."

"As you wish, Miss Steele," he announces happily, his face breaking into a breathtaking smile. _His mood has certainly improved._ He grabs his jeans and boxers from the floor and begins pulling them on as he talks. "This is what I meant when I spoke to you about stamina. You must eat properly, Anastasia. Don't get dressed yet," he orders, but the hard edge in his voice is no longer present. "I have one more thing to see to, then we'll check on what Ms. Jones has left us for dinner."

In all actuality, I am not hungry in the least, but I knew mentioning dinner would distract and satisfy him until I can figure out if I really am okay or not. I can't exactly tell him when I'm not so sure myself.

Once dressed, he leaves the study, shutting the door quietly behind him. I stand there naked like a complete idiot, waiting for him to return. My mind is going a million miles a second trying to process what just happened. Due to this, I am distracted and jump like a frightened animal when the door reopens.

"Ana," Christian gasps in surprise, drawing his brows together. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I thought it might be Taylor," I mutter.

"I assure you, you do not have to worry about any of my staff intruding on your privacy. Neither Taylor nor any of my other employees would dare enter a room with a closed door without knocking first."

"Okay." _Good to know._

"Come here," he beckons. I'm not looking at him, but I can hear the frown in his voice. Now I'm not so sure I want to go to him.

"Why? Are you going to punish me again?"

Surprisingly, it takes a moment or two for him to reply. Christian is usually so quick with a comeback.

"Look at me, Ana."

I do as I'm bid and look up at him. He is clearly irritated with me again. It certainly doesn't take much.

"First of all, you are not supposed to question my orders." He's exasperated. "I know all of this is still very new to you, therefore I am attempting to be patient. But rest assured - in the future - I will expect you to obey me without hesitation."

I nod silently, but am still firmly rooted to my spot. Even if I wanted to follow his order, I'm not certain my feet are willing to cooperate.

He sighs and runs both hands through his hair, making it look perfectly mussed and sexy – as usual. He closes his eyes for a moment as if he's concentrating very hard on something and when he reopens them his features are unreadable.

"No," he begins flatly, "I had not planned on punishing you further. Although you do have a way of scattering my best laid plans. Come here," he orders again, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him. "Be a good girl and do as you're told before I change my mind."

I move toward him cautiously. If this is a trick, however, I am out the door - period. I have to be able to trust him to keep his word.

He smiles at me and shakes his head when I come to a stop directly in front of him. "Wonders never cease," he remarks sardonically. "It seems you are capable of following orders."

Even my subconscious agrees that it's probably best not to make a smart remark at this point, so I avert my eyes again and stand still as I wait for him to make his next move.

Christian puts a finger below my chin and lifts my head. In his other hand he holds what appears to be a jar of some sort of cream.

"This is arnica cream," he informs me. "It is known for its healing and soothing properties. Turn around and let me put this on you."

I quickly turn about, just grateful not to have to look him in the eye. Perhaps this is what being a submissive is all about? You don't look your Master in the eye because you're too humiliated most of the time. And, if that is the case, I know I cannot do this.

"Be prepared Anastasia, this may sting a bit."

I roll my eyes and bite my lip to keep from uttering a disbelieving laugh. Thank god he can't see my face. Does he not see the irony in his warning?

When he places his lotion-covered hand on my backside I am startled once again. The contrast between the cool cream and my burning backside is a bit of a shock.

_Gee, Ana, why so jumpy? _

Christian chuckles lightly. "It is also a bit cold, but I suppose you've figured that part out for yourself."

I stand quietly as he rubs in the cream. It is quite soothing and I don't notice any added sting… of course that could be due to the small fact that my backside is already on fire.

"My god Anastasia, you are _so_ tempting," he breathes huskily. "Your ass is a fantastic color right now. I'd really like to bend you over my desk and fuck you again."

_Again?_ That bit woke my goddess right up. But just then, he removes his hands from me, prompting her to pout in disappointment.

"But you need to eat first," he says with resolve. "We have all weekend, after all. Now, get dressed."

* * *

The mysterious Ms. Jones has set the breakfast bar in the kitchen and left dinner in the oven, along with a note indicating there was a small pitcher of Bloody Marys to be found in the fridge.

Christian looks extremely pleased with the contents of the oven.

"Have you ever eaten Crawfish Etouffee, Miss Steele?"

"No, but I believe I've heard of it." Crap, I forgot to say sir. Or am I even required to use it in every sentence?

"It's a Cajun dish," he explains as he uses a potholder to set a steaming bowl and a large loaf of warm French bread on the bar. "Ms. Jones once worked for a family in New Orleans, so she knows how to make all the best Cajun dishes."

He pauses to look at the food he just set out and crinkles his brow before cocking his head and gazing at me. He looks puzzled, but perhaps a bit amused too. "Well, Anastasia, are you going to stand there all night and stare at the floor, or are you going to grab the pitcher from the fridge? Normally, I expect a sub to serve my dinner to me and not the other way around."

"Sorry, sir," I mumble softly as I head toward the refrigerator. I feel so incredibly out of sorts.

The pitcher of Bloody Marys is fairly obvious sitting there on the shelf. I have never drunk one before, but the liquid is the color of blood, so I assume that must be what it is.

I'm honestly not so sure if it will be something I like, but figure I will try it. Where food and drink is concerned, I have a policy of trying things before I make up my mind. Apparently, I realize a bit bitterly, I also have the same philosophy when it comes to sex, relationships, and contractual obligations.

"Thank you, Anastasia," he says politely as I set the pitcher down. "Why don't you grab us both a bottle of sparkling water as well? Both the food and the drink are quite spicy."

When I'm done with my fetching duties he pulls out my stool like a perfect gentleman and waits until I am seated before sitting down himself.

I grimace as I settle myself onto the stool. My rear end is not burning anywhere near as much now, but the friction of my jeans against the seat causes it to chafe a little. Christian notices, of course. It's difficult to get anything past him.

"So, Miss Steele… I suppose that will help you remember not to worry me." There is amusement in his tone and I'd like to smack him for it.

"I didn't mean to worry you," I answer, failing to hide my resentment. He laughs though. I never know how this man will react.

"I should take you back over my knee for being so petulant, but like I said," he remarks with a raised brow, "we will take things slow and you did handle your punishment admirably. I gave you my word and I intend to keep it, in spite of how trying you are, Anastasia. And for your information, I was _very_ worried. Seattle is a much larger and more dangerous place than Portland. I don't like the thought of you on your own in an unfamiliar town. Horrible things can happen to a lovely young lady such as yourself."

There is true concern in his tone and I can't help but feel warm inside – even though I think his worry was highly unfounded. For one thing, I was never 'on my own'. Not even for a minute.

He pours a drink for me from the pitcher. _Wonder if he realizes he is serving me again?_

"Have you ever had a Bloody Mary?"

"No, sir," I reply, a bit proud that I have finally remembered to address him properly. He smiles, obviously quite pleased as well.

"I don't often drink liquor, but Ms. Jones makes an excellent Bloody Mary and it pairs very well with this dish. Just sip it slowly," he warns, "and be sure to drink plenty of water as well. It is stronger than wine. You will not be able to drink as much of it."

"Yes, sir," I reply, nodding at him before reaching out to take a sip of the drink. It is quite good. Very spicy and rich, and I can't even taste the alcohol. His warning wasn't without merit, this drink could be quite dangerous.

We eat in silence for a while. Now that Christian's mood has improved, I am able to use the time to concentrate on thinking about this evening's events.

Can I do this? More importantly - Do I even want to do this?

_Of course you do!_ My goddess emphasizes in her most pleading tone. _The spanking wasn't so bad and the sex afterwards was simply incredible! Don't give up so soon. It's been less than twenty-four hours since you signed!_

That much is true and I still haven't experienced the Red Room yet. The truth is, I know I will always regret it if I don't at least give this arrangement a fair chance. If I walk away now, I will always wonder about what could have been.

Christian did tell me once to think of this as role-play. I suppose I can swing that for one weekend. _Can't I?_ The idea of three months of this is completely overwhelming, but I can justify trying it for a weekend. In forty-eight hours or less I will be home in my new apartment. And with Kate going to Barbados, I will have practically an entire week to myself to think things through before another weekend with Christian rolls around. I can do this! It's just role play.

_Yes, but when does it stop being 'just role play' and start being real? You can only pretend to be someone you aren't for so long before it begins to change who you are inside. _

It is a sobering thought and I cannot deny the logic behind it. A vision of myself as an unquestioning and unthinking 'Stepford Sub' flashes before my eyes and I don't like what I see. But I resolve not to think of that right now. I am going to concentrate on the two days directly in front of me. After that, I can sit back – _if my backside allows _- and reflect on what all of this means.

Hopefully by then I will have enough information to make a hard and fast decision about the future of the contract… and my 'relationship'. And no matter how terribly it hurts, I may have to force myself to walk away. _Yeah right, like you can really do that,_ my subconscious snarks helpfully.

"Do you like the etouffee?" Christian asks curiously. From his tone, I have a feeling that this may be the second time he's asked. _Oops._ Better climb out of my head and into my 'role'.

"Yes, sir," I say, being sure not to meet his gaze. "It's wonderful."

Actually it is wonderful. I had to force myself to start eating, but once I did, I realized that I was hungrier than I thought. Whoever this Ms. Jones is, she is one heck of a cook.

"Glad to hear it. Although, you do seem quite lost in your thoughts this evening, Anastasia," he remarks a bit sourly.

"I'm sorry, sir. It has been a very long day." See, that was perfectly polite and true besides. Well done, Ana!

"Look at me," he commands, and I raise my gaze to his. "Ana, is there anything you'd like to discuss with me?"

I shake my head. "No, sir."

"You seem…" He trails off with a frown. _What have I done now? _

"Is there something wrong, sir?" I inquire politely.

He stares hard at me for a moment and opens his mouth several times to speak, but nothing comes out. _Christian speechless?_ I never thought I'd see the day… and I'm also not sure why.

"Never mind," he finally grumbles, waving me off with a hand and with a rather childish pout fixed on his face. "Just finish your dinner."


	5. Chapter 5

Our meal is completed amidst a very uncomfortable silence. I consider asking Mr. Grumpy exactly what his problem is, but I believe I am not supposed to speak out of turn. Yes, that would fall under Item 15 – Service Provisions, sub paragraph 23. "The submissive will keep her eyes cast down and retain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant".

_See! That 4.0 you worked so hard for is coming in handy already. Boy those student loans were worth it!_

Is it too much to ask for her to shut her sarcastic mouth for five minutes? This is hard enough without her constant nagging.

Christian finally cleans his plate and rises to stand. I was smart enough to take a small portion for myself this time, so I have been finished for a few minutes already. Now I'm just working on polishing off my second Bloody Mary. I'm really starting to like these things.

He throws his wadded-up napkin down onto the table and motions impatiently for me to rise. Out of habit, I begin clearing the plates to put them away in the sink. I wasn't raised to leave dirty dishes sitting on the table. I've never had servants.

"Leave those," he grumbles. "Ms. Jones will see to them later."

His querulous mood is really beginning to wear on my nerves. Wouldn't it be proper for a sub to serve her Dom in this way? _Jeez!_ He claimed he'd be so happy once I submitted to him. If this is happy, he certainly has a funny way of showing it.

"Go upstairs to your room and wait for me. I plan to introduce you to the playroom this evening, but I want to go over some specifics first."

"Yes, sir." I nod, feeling adrenaline coursing through my body. Finally! Then I remember my phone. _Double crap!_ The ringers are still off.

He must sense a bit of hesitation in my manner, because he raises a brow and asks, "Yes, Anastasia, is there something keeping you?"

"Uhh… my phone," I say hesitantly. "It's still in my purse in your study. I..." _ I so do not want to bring this up._ "I, um, need to make sure it's no longer on silent mode… in case Mom or Ray calls or-"

"Go and get it," he says, cutting me off with a wave.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once I retrieve my purse and ensure that my phone is no longer in silent mode, I start to head toward the stairs. I'm giddy with excitement and a little bit of fear, but somehow that makes it all the more arousing. I'm finally going to get to see what the playroom is all about. Perhaps then I'll know if this charade is worth it like he claims it will be.

Christian is standing near the foot of the stairs when I come walking past. He stops me with a gentle grip around my wrist.

"Look at me," he requests softly and I raise my gaze. _"_I apologize for my mood, Miss Steele. You do seem to be taking your role seriously… and you have no idea what that means to me."

_Wow, what am I supposed to say to that? _Especially since he doesn't sound like he entirely believes what he is saying.Honestly, he looks like someone has kicked his dog.

He reaches up to rub his knuckles against my cheek. I lean into his touch and he presses a soft kiss against my forehead. He is SO incredibly mercurial.

With a frown he reaches down and tugs on the purse strap which sits across my shoulder.

"We can certainly do better than this. You should be carrying a Gucci or Chanel bag, not this cheap Wal-Mart crap."

I look down at my bag as well. No, it is certainly not a Gucci, but it is not crap! In fact, I happen to like it. My mother bought the handmade bag for me at a street fair in Charleston when we drove up there during my last visit to Savannah.

I feel rage welling up inside of me. Uncontrollable rage. It is very cliché, but I quite literally see red. He is NOT going to insult my mother. That is a deal breaker.

I jerk the strap out of his hand with one hard tug and spin on him like a wild animal. I've never felt so angry before, _ever._ I suppose this is the last straw after the spanking and his hateful attitude. I'm pretty sure the liquor has given me some liquid courage as well. Right now, I don't care if he tries to beat me to death. He can just try it. _I dare him._

"My mother bought me this purse," I hiss. "And I happen to like it. It's fun and since it is made from denim, it just so happens to perfectly match my entire crappy Wal-Mart wardrobe!"

The expression of pure shock on Christian's face is not what I expected. Of course, I suppose he is rarely challenged personally or professionally.

"Anastasia," he gasps.

"Don't 'Anastasia' me _Mr. Grey_," I reply acidly, being sure to emphasize his title. Then I start to cry, and that makes me even more furious. Why can't I get angry without crying? Tears are streaming down my face and I am practically screeching at him now. So much for retaining a shred of dignity.

"I may not be as rich as you and I sure as hell don't know anything about wine or what the latest haute couture fashion is, but I am a person! I don't deserve to be treated like – like…" I trail off, unable to continue through my sobs.

Christian reaches for me and I smack his hand away without thinking and charge up the stairs to my room. At this point, I want nothing more than to retrieve my overnight bag, so I can go and try to put this entire humiliating experience behind me. I cannot do this. Why did I ever think I could?

_Because you've fallen in love with him._

No, no I'm not! I can't be. That makes everything so much harder. Somehow my weeping manages to get even worse.

When I arrive upstairs, I realize that Christian has not followed me. _Why would he?_ I've demonstrated in full Technicolor that I am woefully inadequate for this role. Still, I slam the bedroom door anyway and frantically search for a lock, just in case he decides to take his disappointment out on me. There isn't one, at least not from the inside. Makes sense, I suppose. He wouldn't want a lowly sub to be able to lock herself away from him.

My god this is so fucked up! I sit on the edge of the bed and bury my face in my hands, surrendering to my sobs. It has been years since I've cried this hard. Actually, I'm not sure I ever have. Not since I was a young child and the smallest things were of paramount importance and utterly devastating. This feeling is similar to that. I feel like the world has ended.

Finally, after what seems like forever, my tears begin to trail off and I'm left completely exhausted and heartsick. I know I need to get up, get my things and arrange for a cab to transport me back to my place, but I'm having a problem making that first move. This will be it. I will never see Christian again once I leave here tonight.

The door creaks open and I look up startled. My entire body tightens, ready for a fight. Now that my anger has subsided, I am once again highly intimidated by Christian and I have no idea how he is going to react to my outburst. Perhaps I should have run while all the adrenaline was pumping and forgot about retrieving my stupid overnight bag.

"Ana," Christian says as he approaches me slowly. His voice is soft and when I look at his face I don't spot the rage I was expecting. To be honest, he looks very pale. I am still cautious though. Sometimes Christian can be at his scariest when he appears to be the calmest.

"Ana, please don't cry," he says as he sits down beside me. He sounds distraught and that is the last thing I expect. So, despite his request, I start crying even harder.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. I remain stiff and unyielding in his embrace, unsure of his intentions.

"Shhh, baby," he whispers against my hair. "I'm so sorry. I did not mean to insult your mother. I only want you to have the very best. You deserve to have the very best. That's all I was saying. I apologize that it came out the way it did."

"It's not just my mother," I mumble back as I try to wipe the tears from my eyes and compose myself a bit. "You don't like _me_, Christian. I'm not who you want me to be. I don't dress right, I don't act right, I don't…" I choke off a sob. "I don't do _anything_ right. And I don't understand why you're trying so hard to change me when there are a million much more perfect girls you could be with right now."

"I don't want to change you," he says adamantly, it almost sounds like he is scolding me again – _wouldn't be the first time_. "Ana, you're everything I want you to be. I don't understand how you could think so little of yourself. I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

I turn in his arms so I can look at him and his brows are etched with concern, his eyes dark and searching.

I utter a choked laugh. This is so absurd. I must be going crazy, because none of this makes any sense. The puzzled look on his face tells me that he thinks I've lost my mind too.

"Christian, that's ridiculous. What about all the rules? And the punishments? And the expensive clothes you're supposed to be buying for me? How can you say you don't want to change me?"

"Ana, the rules are just part of being a sub. They don't mean that there's anything wrong with you…" He pauses, obviously struggling to explain himself. "I just… I just want you to treat me with respect and not defy me, but I still want you to be you. I'm not sure how to make you understand that."

"And the clothes?"

He sighs and shakes his head. I sense a touch of exasperation but I HAVE to know these things.

"They're just clothes! You're a beautiful woman… whatever you're wearing. I just want to see you dressed in things that are worthy of your beauty. It pleases me to think I can give you that. I don't understand," he admits with a shrug, "most women are more than happy to receive a wardrobe filled with high end designer labels."

"I'm not most women," I mutter as I wipe my nose on my sleeve. At this moment I don't feel like a great example of womanhood period.

Christian stretches out an arm and snatches several tissues from the box which sits on the bedside table and offers them to me before gently grabbing me by the chin and turning my face toward him.

"I know you're not like most women. You're like no one I've ever met… I think that's what draws me to you. The contract you signed - declaring yourself as mine - that is the most important contract I have ever negotiated in my life. It means more to me than you can possibly begin to imagine."

_Wow! _He sounds so earnest and so sincere that the tears start anew.

"Christian, I can't be that girl. I can't be your sub."

He looks stricken. "You're running? You want to leave me?"

"No!" I deny hotly. He looks so hurt that I feel an urge to reassure him, plus it is the last thing I want to do. "I don't want to leave you, Christian. I want to stay more than anything. I just don't think I can be someone I'm not. Not for an entire weekend, anyway. I barely managed for a few hours." I laugh a little when I say the last part. He, no doubt, would rate my performance as pitiful at best.

Christian releases a deep breath of relief, and smiles at me in the most hopeful and boyish way. I can't imagine losing him. The thought makes me sick.

"It will get better, Ana. Please give me another chance. It's my fault you're feeling this way. I've done a piss poor job of introducing you to life as my sub. I should be more clear about my expectations… Sometimes I forget that you're new to this."

"So, tell me, how have I managed to fall so short of your expectations?" I ask a bit bitterly.

"You haven't!" he assures me as he grabs another tissue and uses it to wipe away my tears. "If anything, you're trying too hard."

"Too hard?"

"Yes, Ana… I…" he pauses searching for words. "It felt like I was eating dinner alone tonight. You weren't there with me. I missed you," he admits in a whisper.

I shake my head. "I don't understand. I'm just trying to be what you want me to be."

"You are what I want you to be!" he exclaims. "Ana, I want you to be you. I _need_ you to be you. Talk to me! Don't close yourself off from me. Please, baby, tell me what you're thinking."

"Well," I mumble. I take a deep breath and try to steel myself for what I am about to say next. "I was thinking maybe we didn't have to have a contract at all," I say hesitantly. "Why can't we just spend time together without putting it down on paper?"

"There must be a contract, Anastasia. That is the way I do things and I need a contract. I must have control."

He is not yielding. I can tell from his tone and the hard line of his jaw. He's determined to have his paperwork. It would almost be funny if it wasn't so sad and incredibly frustrating.

"_Christian, I'm so confused."_

"So am I," he utters in a quiet voice. His voice and expression are so unguarded. I never expected Christian Grey to admit he wasn't fully on top of or in control of anything. I gape at him in astonishment.

He smiles at me and rolls his eyes. "Yes, Anastasia, I admit it. I'm confused too. This… with you… it's different from anything I have ever experienced before. And I want it to work so badly. More than I've ever wanted anything. Just be yourself Ana, please. I promise to do a better job of guiding you in the future. I certainly don't want to have to endure you screeching at me again," he adds half-jokingly and shakes his head in wonder. "I can't believe you did that."

He's clutching both of my hands in his, and he looks so sincere and so hopeful. I do want to give him another chance, but I am also afraid.

"I'm afraid to be myself around you," I admit.

He gasps. This revelation seems to take him aback. _Is he serious?_

"Christian, I never know when something I say or do will cause you to want to punish me. The rules are so arbitrary. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells."

"They aren't arbitrary, Anastasia," he insists. "They are written down in black and white. All I'm asking is for you to be respectful and not defy me. It is very clear."

"No, it's not! I don't know what you want from me. I don't know how to act."

Christian stands up and strolls around the room, obviously deep in thought. How can he possibly be so obtuse? He's an intelligent man for heaven's sake! I have listened to Kate rant for countless hours about how clueless men are – is this what she was talking about?

He whirls around and the smile on his face tells me he has had a eureka moment. It is very disarming. For a brief moment, he appears to be the young man he actually is. He sits back down and grabs me by the shoulders excitedly, turning me toward him.

"You are new to this. So, I'll make you a promise… Be yourself and relax, don't worry about walking on eggshells around me."

_Is that all? Boy is that easier said than done._

"If you displease me, I will tell you exactly what displeased me and why, so you will know not to do it again in the future. I won't punish you the first time unless you commit a major transgression. And yes, Anastasia, making yourself unavailable and unreachable is a major transgression. I won't tolerate you risking your safety. But for other things - such as you rolling your eyes, for instance. For those things I will warn you the first time."

"But you will punish me if I do them a second time?" _This is the part I'm having trouble with._

"Yes, Anastasia, I will." He is deadly serious. "But I promise to take it slow and give you a chance first. You have to trust me."

"But I didn't like being spanked. Do you have to do it?"

"That's part of the deal, baby. It goes with the territory. And you're not supposed to like it. That's why it's called punishment." He brushes my hair back from my face and gazes into my eyes. I can see the passion burning there. "Was it really so bad? Because I know you were turned on by it, Ana. And don't lie to me about that again… I will spank you for it."

His lips twist into a small smile, but I know he is not joking. No, he is completely and utterly serious about it. No doubt in my mind.

"I don't know how I feel about it, Christian. Yes, you're right… it did turn me on. But I feel like it shouldn't have," I admit in a very small voice. My cheeks are now crimson.

"You have to let those puritanical moral judgments go, Ana. Who says you shouldn't have? We are two consenting adults, that is all that should matter here. And it pleased me very much," he adds in a low, and husky voice. "You have no idea what your arousal did to me. You are so responsive to me and only to me. You're mine, Anastasia. That fills me with so much joy."

"Okay," I whisper. "I'll give it another try." I can feel the familiar pull between us and I am once again hopelessly lost in his spell.

XXXXXXX

A/N: Yes, I know, poor Ana. So much confusion and definitely not a clear path ahead. I'd say 'poor Christian' too, but he is the one steering this runaway train, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: If you're looking for much plot development this chapter, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. There's a bit, but it is mostly just smut ahead ;) Again thanks so much for all the support! Hope everyone has a great weekend.

* * *

I awake in Christian's arms as he nuzzles against the back of my neck.

"Wake up, Anastasia," he calls out softly. "I'm far too horny to let you sleep the night away. So, up and at 'em."

I open my eyes and blink in confusion. The last thing I remember is Christian holding me after our fight/discussion/contract renegotiation… _whatever it was_.

"What time is it?" I ask with a yawn.

"Barely past ten. The night is still very young and I have plans for you, Miss Steele. But I thought you could use a nap first."

I turn in his arms and chance a look at him. He is smiling, leering to be specific. The man never seems to get enough.

"Did you take a nap too?"

"I don't take naps, Anastasia."

He rolls his eyes as he says it. I always notice that gesture now that I know I'm not allowed. But it is hard for me to be cross with him at the moment. He seems playful and playful-Christian is not to be wasted.

"Are we going to the playroom?" I ask, biting my lip very deliberately.

He leans over and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down gently. "I know what you're doing, Miss Steele, and I told you _I'd_ bite that lip of yours. And the answer to your question is 'no'. We are not going in the playroom tonight."

"_But why not?"_ Okay, that sounds extremely whiny, even to me.

"Because I said so," he announces with a cheeky grin, "and because I have other plans for you. We'll do the playroom scene tomorrow. I have another scene I'd like to do tonight. I just thought of it while you were sleeping. I want to do this one in my bathroom."

"In your bathroom?" I can't keep the skepticism from my voice.

"Yes, in my bathroom," he repeats as he leans over and rubs his nose against mine. "You can't resist questioning me, can you?"

His tone is teasing, so I decide I'm not in trouble. The mood between us has certainly improved from earlier. Perhaps this really will work out okay.

"Up with you, Miss Steele. I still have a few items to setup, but I'll expect you front and center in exactly five minutes… or I'll come and get you myself."

_Hmmm… that threat doesn't sound half bad._

* * *

After Christian leaves, I rush to the nearest upstairs bathroom. There is a new spring in my step and I'm beyond excited to see what he has in store for me, although I am a bit disappointed that I have to wait a while longer to get inside the playroom.

Nevertheless, I need to pee and I want to wash my face to get rid of the remains of my ruined mascara and attempt to deal with eyes that are destined to be puffy from all the crying. I also run my hand through my hair in hopes of making it somewhat presentable. Maybe it could pass for tousled and sexy?

_Pfft, as if._

I stick my tongue out at my reflection. She can bite me.

In the midst of attempting to smooth out my hopelessly wrinkled shirt, I realize that I am only wasting my time. If I'm lucky, I'll only be wearing said shirt for a few more short minutes.

Once downstairs, I purposefully reign in my stride and attempt to stroll casually into the bathroom in Christian's master suite. However, when I take in the scene, my mouth falls open.

How can Christian say that he doesn't know how to be romantic? I may be short on experience, but even I know this is the very definition of romantic.

The room is so welcoming and warm. I suspect he has dimmers on the lights, because the lighting is unusually soft by fluorescent bathlight standards, and he has also covered almost every available surface in flickering candles.

I also smell a faint flowery scent, lavender possibly. I am fairly sure it is coming from the large tub which has been filled almost to the brim with steaming water. The smell is some sort of bath oil, I'm guessing. But still - _flowers and Christian -_ surely he recognizes the irony.

The only thing that puzzles me is the high back chair he has pulled inside the room and placed in front of the full length mirror. It is the finest mahogany with a leather seat and appears to be from a formal dining set. I know for a fact that it was not in here the last time I was here. I run my hand across the polished chair back, pondering what he has planned.

"Curious, Miss Steele?" Christian asks. He looks so proud of himself. It's adorable. He's irresistible when he's like this.

"Very, Mr. Grey," I reply.

I grin back at him, but make sure not to look him directly in the eye as I am still trying to work out his 'act like yourself' decree.

"From now on, feel free to look at me unless I tell you otherwise… I love to see your face. I also really love the smile you're giving me. You should smile like that more often."

_You should be sweet and agreeable more often._

"May I ask what you have in store for me?"

"You can ask… but I'm not telling. It's a surprise," he breathes as he leans in for a soft, chaste kiss. "You'll just have to trust me. I want to show you something. I want you to see how unbelievably pleasurable it will be to surrender complete control of your body to me."

_Okay, I'm game!_ My goddess is embarrassingly enthusiastic about this.

"Now get rid of those clothes. You are far to overdressed for this scene."

I cannot obey this order fast enough. I'm ready. Whatever this is, it looks like fun.

As usual, Christian is much more elegant in his disrobing efforts. He slowly peels off the jeans he's wearing along with his boxers. _Holy wow_ is he turned on! By the time his shirt has joined the pile of clothes in the floor, I practically have to scrape my tongue off the floor. His body is simply amazing.

As he stalks gracefully towards me, the shifting candlelight highlights the scars on his chest and it squeezes my heart. I think they are possibly from chicken pox, but they are a little larger than those scars typically are. A voice in the back of my head whispers that they are cigarette burns. My god! How could anyone do that to an animal much less a fellow human being? I feel sick.

"Are the scars the reason you won't let me touch you?" I ask softly.

Crap! There it is. The hard glint is back in his eyes. He does not want to talk about this. With a scowl, he runs his hand through his hair.

"Yes, it is part of the reason, but I don't wish to talk about that right now. Drop it Ana, please."

It's a warning and I heed it. Things are going so much better between us and I don't want to ruin it. Besides, I'm fairly sure he's given me all he's going to give on the subject… _for now._

"So, where do you want me?" I ask, hoping to change the subject.

The scowl is immediately replaced with a smile. He is relieved that I've let him off the hook.

"Very eager, aren't you Anastasia? I like that. I _really_ like that. You just stay put," he orders. "I'll be back in a moment."

True to his word he is gone less than a minute. When he returns, he is carrying _the_ gray silk tie… and its _twin_? Yes, there are two of them and they are identical. Christian's grin widens when he notices my interest.

"You seem extremely fond of this particular tie, so I decided to purchase a second one and make it a matched set. We aim to please."

My pulse quickens, and my goddess jumps up and down and claps her hands. Oh my, what does he have planned?

With a wink, he strides past me and settles into the chair in front of the mirror. "Come here, Anastasia. Have a seat."

_Ooh, I get to be on top again._ I did like that position. But I'm confused when I attempt to straddle his lap facing him and he shakes his head at me.

"Turn around, Miss Steele. Face the mirror."

_Okay, this is different_.

I sit down in front of him between his spread legs, facing the mirror as he requested. He wraps an arm around my middle and pulls me against him so that I can feel his erection pressing into my lower back.

"You smell amazing, Ana," he says as he buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply, then begins to nibble on my ear.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against his shoulder.

"Uh uh," he scolds gently. "Eyes open. You need to watch this."

I open my eyes and take in the view of the two of us in the mirror. It is erotic to watch as he brushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. He appears lost in me and suddenly I feel very powerful. Perhaps it's the soft lighting, but I almost feel as if I look like I belong in this beautiful man's arms.

He pulls back with a light nip to my earlobe and reaches down to the floor beside him. I turn my head to watch as he picks up one of the silk ties.

"Eyes forward," he warns in a stern voice. So I look into the mirror again. Actually, I have a much better view of what he is doing this way. And what he is doing is a bit unexpected. He is tying my left leg to his. The tie is wrapped around my ankle, but is midway up his calf since his legs are so much longer than mine. He has created a sort of figure eight with the fabric and is now struggling to tie it in some sort of intricate knot as he reaches down and around me. His reflection shows someone who is plainly flustered by his task.

Flustered Christian! _Wow!_ I can't help it, I start giggling.

His eyes meet mine in the mirror and he draws his brows down into a scowl. _Crap!_ But he just shakes his head as he tries and fails not to smile.

"I wouldn't laugh at the man you're about to be quite literally tethered to, Anastasia. It wouldn't be wise."

I valiantly struggle to reign in my giggles.

"I'll have you know that this is the most poorly planned scene I have ever staged. It went much, much smoother in my head," he admits, still smiling. "You can blame yourself for that, Miss Steele. You tend to scatter my best laid plans. I often find myself making last minute adjustments on your account."

I take a deep breath to compose myself and try to say a sincere, "My apologies, sir," but I know the amusement is still evident in my tone.

He has just finished tying my right leg to his by this point and smirks at me in the mirror as he scoots forward a bit, spreads his legs and hooks his ankles around each of the chair legs. I gasp as my own legs move with his and are spread wide, completely exposing me to the mirror in front of me. I can feel the blood rising to my face. Instinctively, I try to close my thighs out of embarrassment, but of course they do not budge since my legs are tied securely to Christian's.

"You are at my mercy now, Anastasia," he whispers in my ear. "Keep your eyes open and forward or face the consequences."

It's a delicious threat and I whimper helplessly as I feel excitement spreading through my core.

"So you don't believe I'm satisfied with exactly what I see in front of me, is that true Anastasia?"

His voice is breathy and his erection has grown even harder against my back.

"Anastasia?" he prompts, raising an impatient brow.

"I…yes… I don't know," I whisper. This is very intense.

"Look at yourself," he orders as he cups my breasts in his hands. "You're beautiful. Your skin is flawless, your breasts fit my hands so perfectly." I watch as he runs his thumbs across my nipples and rolls them between his fingers.

The sight is incredibly erotic and I unconsciously throw my head back against his shoulder and groan loudly.

"Eyes forward," he growls with a hard pinch to each of my nipples. It is both painful and highly arousing. "I'm going to make you come, Ana, and you're going to watch."

He continues stroking my nipples with his expert fingers as he trails a line of passionate kisses down my neck. Almost immediately, I feel the familiar tightening between my legs. I try to wiggle my hips, but I am trapped with my legs spread wide and my orgasm is fast approaching. It is quite an overwhelming feeling.

Christian raises his head and meets my eyes in the mirror. "Let it go, Ana. Watch yourself come for me."

I cry out loudly as my climax takes me over. I have to struggle to keep my eyes open and forward.

"See how beautiful you are when you come apart for me. Oh god, Ana. I need to be buried inside you."

I vaguely realize that he is reaching down to the floor again and then hear the now familiar rip of foil. By the time he puts the condom on, I am limp in his arms.

"Heads up, baby. I'm going to take you now."

He rearranges himself in the chair and lifts me by the hips. Christian really does know his bondage. Even with my legs still tied to his, he is still able to easily position himself below my opening. Whoa, this is intense. I've never actually seen it happening before. I can see him as he slowly fills me. At this point I am far too aroused to be embarrassed. I watch with my mouth open, completely fascinated.

"See how perfectly you fit me, Ana," he groans. "You're so tight and wet. It's like you were made for me, baby. You're all mine."

"_Uhhh!"_ I cry out.

"That's right. Let me hear you."

I need to feel him thrusting inside of me, but I cannot move and he is holding himself perfectly still. It is so frustrating.

"Play with yourself, Ana," he orders.

His voice is incredibly strained. He is apparently struggling to remain still himself. I marvel at his self-control.

"I don't see you following my orders," he murmurs against my ear.

"Christian…I… I don't know how." I am begging him to have mercy on me, although I don't really expect him to.

"Yes you do, baby. Just rub yourself, you'll figure it out. Do it Ana," he says sternly. "I want to see it… and make sure you watch too."

Hesitantly, I move my right hand between my legs and begin rubbing my clitoris. He gasps as he watches and I can also feel him beneath my fingers as I move them. It is so intensely intimate, but I want him to do this for me. It doesn't feel the same without his knowledgeable hands.

As he so often does, he reads my mind and places his hand across mine and guides me in my motions. He uses more pressure than I was using and I can feel myself beginning to quicken again… and then he stops. No! And even worse, he grabs me by my wrists and places my hands against the tops of my thighs.

"Please," I beg.

I see him shake his head in the mirror. "Not yet, baby. Not until I say. And if you attempt to touch yourself again, I _will_ spank you."

This is such sweet torture. I feel like a mad woman and whimper in protest, but he ignores me. At least I am satisfied in knowing that this is not easy for him either. His breathing is coming in harsh pants as he reaches down and with one firm tug he undoes first one of the ties and then the other.

"Holy fuck!" He groans as he pulls me off of him and lifts me to my feet. "Can you stand?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Ooh, so he's back to that now. But right now it seems highly erotic.

"Yes, sir… _Please."_

The chair goes sliding across the bathroom as he kicks it out of his way. "Put your hands on the wall, Anastasia. Brace yourself. This is going to be very hard and very fast."

Thank god! I quickly do as I'm told and place my hands flat against the wall. He grabs me by the waist and pulls my hips backward, then fills me with one hard, powerful thrust. Immediately, he falls into a merciless, pounding rhythm and I cannot get enough of it.

"Again, Ana!" he orders and I fall apart on command. I'm afraid I might pass out and my legs are sure to buckle beneath me if he keeps this up. Luckily he is not far behind me and finds his own release after two more hard thrusts.

When I come back to myself I am still standing, but just barely, and only because he is supporting most of my weight.

"That was incredible," he remarks breathlessly as he pulls out of me.

I completely agree, but am surprised by the wonder in his voice. Maybe this really is as different for him as he claims it is.

He takes a few deep breaths and then straightens himself.

"Into the tub with you, Anastasia. We're going to take a nice bath, then I will likely have to fuck you again before I put you to bed. Dr. Greene is coming in the morning to set you up with some contraception and I have a big day planned. Trust me, you'll need your sleep," he says with a sly grin.

* * *

True to his word he does indeed fuck me again, but this time we do it on his bed.

He is right. Even with the nap I took earlier, I am completely exhausted and ready for bed. I've just finished recovering from another intense orgasm when I feel him wrap a robe around me and lift me into his arms.

"Where are we going?" I ask sleepily, resting my head against his shoulder.

"You, Miss Steele, are going to bed and I have some boring emails I must answer. A certain frustrating young woman ensured that I was too frustrated this afternoon to do a thorough job of it."

He means me, of course. I can't hide my disappointment when he gently lays me down in my upstairs bedroom. I had hoped to sleep with him in his bed tonight. I don't understand why I can't. I was already there.

"You're not sleeping with me?"

"No, Ana, I'm not," his voice is firm, but he presses a kiss against my forehead to soften the blow.

He starts to leave, but turns around halfway to the door. It is like he is waging some sort of internal struggle.

"I want you to be well rested," he explains with a sigh. "I don't generally sleep well, Ana. I'm often up several times during the night, and I really do need to do a bit of work before I lie down. You'll be better rested in here by yourself. Besides, I must get up quite early to pick up my sister from the airport. I'll wake you before I leave so that you can be prepared to meet Dr. Greene."

"Goodnight, Christian," I mutter. I am trying hard to keep the disappointment from my tone and probably failing.

He walks back over to the bedside and I feel hopeful for a moment, but he only reaches down and presses a soft kiss against my lips before turning to leave once again. He pauses at the door before going.

"Goodnight, Anastasia. Sweet dreams, baby."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Yes, I am a bit lazy. I lifted some of the description of Dr. Greene and her time with Ana straight from Book 1 & Franco from Book 2. It seemed fitting the way it was written and I decided to go with bits of the original for the sake of speed and convenience. Hope you don't mind.

Also, since I went AU at the halfway point of Book 1, I am fairly sure that Ana does not know Mrs. Robinson's true name or profession at this point. Also, before you think TOO harshly of Christian here, remember that she doesn't normally work at the particular salon he sends Ana too. He does not intend for them to cross paths.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I come awake with a start. The bedside clock tells me it is just after 3AM. I am disoriented and find myself a bit surprised and alarmed to be in an unfamiliar room. Then I remember that I'm in the sub suite and experience a pang of disappointment at the memory of being banished from Christian's bed.

I'm not quite sure what woke me. Part of me thinks I heard a scream, but everything is perfectly quiet. _Maybe it was me?_ I have been known to talk in my sleep, although screaming would be a bit out of the ordinary. Then again, everything is a bit out of the ordinary these days and my dreams have reflected that.

I continue to listen carefully for a minute or two and all is silence at first, then I hear the muffled sounds of a sad melody being played on the piano downstairs. Christian is clearly awake as well.

_Maybe it was his scream I heard?_

No, that's ridiculous. Christian Grey screaming in his sleep is just not something within the realm of reasonable possibility. He is quite literally Mr. Control. He has probably never screamed in his adult life. He would find it undignified and unseemly, I'm sure.

_He did say he was fifty shades of fucked up. Maybe his nighttime screamfest is the reason he doesn't share his bed with you?_

That is a sobering thought and the vision of his scars flash in front of my eyes. As I strain to listen to the quiet tune of the song he is playing, I am tempted to go to him and make sure that he is okay.

But, then again, he has slept with me twice – once on the night I passed out drunk and again the night I lost my virginity. There were no such bizarre incidents on either of those occasions and that fact gives my insecurities free reign.

The simple and sad truth is that he does not want me in his bed. Not unless he wants to fuck me, that is. Once he has had his fill of that, he no longer wants me underfoot. I'll be damned if I make a fool of myself by running to him and begging him to sleep with me. I am fairly sure I have already done enough bowing and scraping over the past few days. I am officially off duty until a more decent hour of the morning.

So, I force myself to lie still and try to go back to sleep while listening to the haunting melody and thinking about the many contradictions in Christian's behavior. Sometimes he is so sweet and tender and then in the flash of an eye he is equally cold and distant. I am unable to banish the thought of those scars and the possibility of what they may mean. Once I finally drift back into an uneasy sleep, I dream of a sad and lonely little gray-eyed boy.

XXXXXXXXXX

A morning person is something I have never been and will likely never be. It takes me a minute or so to realize that Christian is trying to shake me awake.

"For heaven's sake, Ana, you sleep like the dead. Wake up! I need to be going if I'm to make it to Seatac on time. It's likely to take several years of my life to locate all of Mia's luggage as it is."

He sounds exasperated but also a bit amused, which is fortunate since I'm certain he was likely treated to some unconscious grumbling on my part. Ray used to say that I was plain crabby in the morning when he woke me for school, although I have little to no memory of the things I supposedly said to him.

"It's early," I whine. "Just give me a few more minutes."

"I let you sleep as long as I could, Anastasia. Dr. Greene will be here in an hour and I'm sure you'll want to have some breakfast and get ready before she arrives. I had quite a time convincing her to give up part of her weekend and she insisted on getting this out of the way as early as possible."

My eyes fly open. I am suddenly feeling much more alert at the mention of the doctor's arrival. I've never had _that_ exam before and I've been a bit nervous about it. At my age, I certainly should have been through this before, but since I wasn't sexually active and didn't have a regular doctor, I kept putting it off.

"_She?"_ I ask, feeling both relieved and surprised at the doctor's gender. I didn't picture Christian having a female doctor for some reason.

"Yes, _she_. I decided you needed a specialist, so I arranged for you to see the best OB/GYN in Seattle." My relief at having a female doctor must be obvious, because Christian grins at me and adds, "Yes, Miss Steele, I didn't like the idea of another man getting such an intimate view of you either. I'm a bit proprietary if you hadn't noticed."

He tucks my hair behind my ears and gives me a sweet peck on the top of my head before standing up from where he was sitting on the side of the bed. He's dressed casually in jeans and a cream colored linen shirt, and he smells of his expensive body wash. I suddenly feel extremely bashful, as I'm sure I look like a particularly tragic train wreck while he looks like a gorgeous sex god even at 7AM in the morning. It isn't fair.

No, this gorgeous put-together man certainly did not wake screaming in the middle of the night. The sight of him looking so confident and strong makes me feel silly for even entertaining such an absurd idea.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he says on his way out the door. "Taylor will be here if you need him. And be sure to eat some breakfast, Anastasia. I will be very displeased if you don't," he adds sternly. "Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

XXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Greene is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal-blue suit. I'm reminded of the women who work in Christian's office. She's like an identikit model— another Stepford blonde. Her long hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. She must be in her early forties.

But, despite her polished, sophisticated appearance, she has a way of making me feel comfortable. I suppose that trait is essential in her particular line of work. She does see women at their most vulnerable, after all.

We go upstairs to my bedroom and after a thorough examination and lengthy discussion, Dr. Greene and I decide on the mini pill. She writes me a prepaid prescription and instructs me to pick the pills up as soon as possible since I'll need to begin taking it as soon as my period starts. _Of course it's pre-paid_, I think. Christian really is on top of everything.

I love her no-nonsense attitude— she has lectured me until she's as blue as her dress about taking it at the same time every day. And I can tell she's burning with curiosity about my so-called relationship with Mr. Grey. I don't give her any details. Somehow I don't think she'd look so calm and collected if she'd seen his Red Room of Pain. I flush as we pass its closed door and head back downstairs to the art gallery that is Christian's living room.

"Good day, and good luck to you, Ana." She smiles, her eyes crinkling, as we shake hands.

Taylor appears from nowhere to escort her through the double doors and out to the elevator. How does he do that? Where does he lurk?

I am relieved to have that experience behind me, although it was nowhere near as bad as I'd feared. Anxiously, I rush to the kitchen to find something for breakfast before Christian gets back. I was too nervous to eat before the appointment and I certainly don't want Mr. Control Freak to start in on the food thing again. Once again, I thank god that I had him remove the list of prescribed foods from the contract. That was just way too much.

I settle on a bowl of granola, some yogurt and a banana, and eat at the breakfast bar while reading the copy of the _Seattle Sun Times_ that Taylor brought in this morning. As usual, there isn't much good news to be found in the world, so eventually I give up and opt for the crossword puzzle. Hopefully Christian won't mind.

Eventually I give up with two words to go. The clues are sports-related and since I'm highly uncoordinated myself, I have never had much interest in sports and know next to nothing about the subject.

I'm beginning to wonder what is keeping Christian. It's after 10AM and he still hasn't returned or called. Of course it is possible that his sister's flight was delayed. Even the great and powerful Christian Grey can't control the commercial airlines. At least I don't think he can. _Surely not_.

I am about to give in and call him when my Blackberry rings. It's Christian, of course.

"Hello, Christian," I answer happily, deciding to deliberately leave the 'sir' off the greeting this time. He did say to be myself.

"Hello Ana, I have to go by the office for a while." He sounds irritated and I'm hoping it is business-related and not Ana-related.

"Oh… okay… Did you pick-up your sister?"

"Oh yes," he replies and I can sense a bit of exasperation there. "She insisted we have breakfast and – _fair warning_ – she is absolutely obsessed with meeting you."

I'm surprised by that and very pleased. I assumed he wouldn't even mention me to his sister.

"It seems Mom and Elliot have been spreading gossip internationally,"Christian continues_. _"You were practically the only thing Mia talked about. I'm sure she's shocked that I'm not gay."

"Oh," I mumble, once again disappointed. He didn't bring me up after all._ Of course he didn't! What would he say?_ _'Good to see you baby sis, I have a new sex slave'_ _doesn't seem exactly proper._

"Anyway, I am sorry to keep you waiting," he says politely. "I have a contractor at the shipping yards who decided to take it upon himself to subcontract some of the work to illegal immigrants. It's a real clusterfuck!"

He sounds like a whiny teen instead of a billionaire CEO and it is sort of amusing. "I'm sorry, Christian," I offer sincerely.

He sighs. "Me too, baby. I had planned for a much more interesting and pleasant day, but that will have to wait for later. I have to clean this mess up before it spins out of control."

There is genuine regret in his voice, which lifts my crushed spirits a bit.

"I will likely be tied up for a few hours," he continues. "I will arrange for Taylor to take you out for a spa day, so you can relax and be pampered while I'm gone. I see no point in ruining your Saturday as well. Hopefully I will be home by the time you're done."

"That's okay, Christian, I'm sure I can find something to read around here or maybe I'll watch some TV." _Of course, I've never actually seen a TV around here._

"_Anastasia."_

It's a warning. I'm starting to recognize the signs and I decide there's no point arguing with him about this. He's already cranky enough as it is.

"I just didn't want to trouble you," I attempt to explain. "But thank you for the spa day, sir. That's very thoughtful."

I can hear the smile in his voice. "You're very welcome, Anastasia. Enjoy your day. I will see you this evening."

* * *

Taylor drives me to an upscale salon and spa named Esclava. It is actually not far from where I live, but even so, I know this place is way out of my league. It takes a considerable amount of courage for me to even approach the well-dressed, impeccably groomed blonde behind the reception desk. Especially since I'm fairly certain she sees me already, but probably thinks I'm in the wrong place and is waiting for me to catch on and get the heck out. I am horribly out of place in my blue jeans, a WVU t-shirt, and a pair of worn sneakers.

"Uh… excuse me," I say, trying hard to sound sure of myself. "My name is Ana Steele. I believe I have an appointment."

The skeptical look on the woman's face disappears immediately. She smiles broadly and offers her perfectly manicured hand for a shake. "Miss Anastasia Steele?"

"Yes, that's me," I confirm, "but I'm usually just plain Ana."

"Of course, Miss Steele. Hold on just one moment and I'll grab Franco. He's been waiting for you."

Wow, once again I'm certain I've experienced the 'Christian Grey Effect' and as usual, I'm completely bowled over and overwhelmed. Money really is power it seems.

* * *

Franco is small, dark and gay. I love him immediately. He is a whirlwind of energy when he sweeps into the lobby, and immediately manages to make me feel welcome and at ease.

"Such beautiful hair!" he gushes with an outrageous, probably fake Italian accent. I bet he's from Baltimore or somewhere, but his enthusiasm is infectious. Before I know it, I am seated in a barber's chair, he has removed my hair tie, and has begun combing out my messy hair as he chatters away.

"Mr. Grey was right. You don't need for me to do much at all. Just a snip or two on the ends and _voila_ you will be perfection!"

A wave of irritation rolls over me. Christian has already given instructions on what to do with my hair? Honestly, I had only planned on a trim, but that's not the point. It is my hair, don't I get a say?

_Of course you don't. It's in the contract, remember? You signed it; you should certainly know what's in it._

Holy shit! The _Personal Hygiene/Beauty_ rule. This is the waxing clause! How could I be so stupid? This has absolutely nothing to do with my relaxation and everything to do with fulfilling my contract. I should have known.

Thankfully Franco is extremely good at one-sided conversation, so he continues to chatter happily as I brood and offer simple yes/no answers to any questions.

He must finally notice my scowl, because he suddenly looks very distressed. "Anastasia are you not happy?"

I rush to reassure him, because I really am happy with what he's accomplished. I'm simply amazed at how smooth and frankly beautiful my hair looks now. It's almost like I am looking at a completely different girl. Perhaps I shouldn't fight this experience, I reason. It is every girl's dream to have a day in an expensive spa, isn't it? If they can manage to do that with my hideous hair, then I simply have to see what they can do to the rest of me.

I manage to hold onto this positive attitude for a whole ten minutes. Just up until the point where one of the employees leads me to the room where they do the waxing and instructs me to get undressed and put on a robe. That's when I start feeling resentful and unsure once again. I don't want them waxing me down there! I've already had one complete stranger messing with my private parts today. Besides, I hear it's painful. It would simply have to be. _Hello!_ They are ripping your hair out by the roots and that is a rather delicate spot.

I'm sitting naked in nothing but the extremely soft, thick robe when another Stepford blonde enters the scene. Honestly, what is with all these well-heeled blondes?

This one is older than the lady at the reception desk. I am guessing late thirties or early forties, and she is absolutely stunning. There isn't a hair out of place on her sharp bob and she is dressed in a simple, yet obviously expensive, head-to-toe black number that accentuates her perfect figure. Once again, I'm feeling inadequate, especially since this blonde seems to be studying me intensely.

"Um… are you here to wax me?" I ask. It seems like an awkward question, but I feel like I have to say something, since she just keeps staring and I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable.

She gives me a friendly smile showing off perfect white teeth. It's as if my question has snapped her out of her daze. "No," she replies in a soft voice. "I've come to take you for a Dead Sea body wrap. I apologize for the confusion. Mr. Grey always orders a full Brazilian, so I just assumed… but it appears that he specifically left instructions not to do one this time," she adds, sounding puzzled.

Now I know. It is possible to feel incredibly relieved and horribly mortified in the exact same moment. I'm thrilled that I don't have to endure the waxing and absolutely floored to realize that this is apparently the place he sends his other subs. _How humiliating! _

_Why should you be surprised? You are just one of sixteen. I doubt he takes the time to find a new salon each time a new sub needs her bits waxed. _

I have to agree with the hag. A prudent, efficient businessman like him would have a set routine for this sort of 'routine maintenance'. The only thing that keeps me from walking out of here is the fact that he ordered _not_ to do a wax on me. That throws me off balance just enough to keep me from exploding.

The lady who leads me to the place where they do wraps, facials, and the like introduces herself as Elena. She is very polite and soft spoken, but something about her makes me feel uncomfortable. She seems far too interested in me. She wants to know everything. Where I'm from, what I studied in college, and on and on.

I decide that maybe it's just me. I am rather shy and fairly introverted. I realize that I've always avoided the salon experience simply because I never felt comfortable being chatted up by complete strangers who happen to have much better hair and fashion sense than me.

Nevertheless, I have to admit that I am dismayed to learn that she will be the one doing the Dead Sea wrap on me. I'd hoped to have someone else, especially since this is an _allover_ thing. Elena is highly professional though as she instructs me to disrobe and lie face-up on a table.

_Buck up, Ana! _My goddess pleads._ We deserve this! And this woman sees naked people all the time. She doesn't care! Stop being so silly._

Once I'm lying there exposed, however, I feel like she is looking at me a bit too intently. Then she opens her mouth and I'm horrified.

"Now I can see why Mr. Grey didn't opt for the Brazilian. You are refreshingly natural. Your breasts are perfect. You certainly are a lovely girl, Anastasia."

_How mind-blowingly inappropriate!_

"Um… thanks," I hear myself mumble. What the heck am I supposed to say to that?

Needless to say, lying still while she applies some green goop all over my body and wraps me up like a mummy is not going on any highlight reels of mine.

Elena didn't make any more inappropriate comments though and she remained extremely polite, but I still felt… Well, _violated_ is the only word that seems to fit. It's difficult to explain why I feel that way though. It's not like she fondled me or anything. She did touch my breasts, which was awkward, but she seemed to do it professionally… _I suppose_. Still, it strikes me that I didn't feel this way when Dr. Greene examined me and by the very nature of the exam, she was required to be much more intimately familiar with my body than this lady was.

After I'm all finished, I am bundled back up in my robe and my feet are set to soak in a foot spa – which is actually pretty nice. While I wait for yet another employee to come and give me a mani/pedi, I am left alone for a few minutes and take the time to call Kate. I explain my misgivings to her about the spa experience and she laughs it all off, making me feel like a bit of a prude.

"_Oh, Ana, you're just not used to that sort of thing is all. You're so lucky! I hope Elliot treats me to a spa day soon. Christian has actually gone up a few points in my book today."_

That's good, I decide. It's true that Christian is not Kate's favorite person.

"So, you do think I'm overreacting? I really didn't like her touching me, Kate. It felt so… weird."

"_Yeah, it is kinda weird, Steele. But you've gotta realize these people do this stuff all day long. They don't think anything of it. I guess it makes them seem a bit casual about the fact that people are naked. You get used to it." _

"Okay," I agree, although I'm not 100% convinced. "Listen Kate, I better go. I'm about to get a mani/pedi."

_"I'm so jealous. I hate you now, Steele!"_ Kate exclaims, although she sounds overjoyed for me. _"See you Sunday, 'kay?"_

"Laters, baby," I say, deliberately making her giggle like a schoolgirl at my use of Elliot's famous line. Kate is SO head over heels.

* * *

After the mani/pedi and the massage, I feel like I have a bit more perspective on the day. I did enjoy the experience overall, although I'd never in my life pay the prices this place charges even if I could afford it. It's insane!

I do have to admit that my hair has never looked better, and I do feel quite pampered and very relaxed after the foot bath and massage. Wow, that massage was truly something! However, I think I will talk to Christian about not doing any more full-body treatments in the future. Hopefully, if I explain to him that I didn't feel comfortable, he'll understand and let that part go. Kate's probably right and I am just being a prude, but I don't care. I didn't like that part of the experience and I'd just rather not go there again.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Taylor and I arrive back at Escala, Christian has escaped the office and is back at home. I know because I am able to hear his voice as soon as I exit the foyer. He sounds angry and I would hate to be the poor person on the receiving end of his vitriol.

As I step into the Great Room, I see that he is talking on his Blackberry. He is still wearing the same jeans and cream colored button-up from this morning, but his feet are now bare. For some reason I just love his bare feet… Well, technically, I love his everything. I stand just inside the entryway and drink in the imposing and impossibly handsome sight of him as he paces in agitation and barks into the phone.

"Thank god we had the 'no unapproved subcontractors' provision or we'd be in a fucking world of hurt right now. I hope that bastard knows he won't be getting any more business from me!"

When he finally notices me, his entire attitude immediately changes. The scowl on his face disappears and is replaced by a blinding smile. It's as if his whole body relaxes at the very sight of me. All of my earlier insecurities fade away under his regard, and my spirit soars to think that my mere presence affects him this way.

"Just let me know if anything else comes out of this mess," he says shortly and then abruptly shuts off the phone and sets it aside without so much as a 'goodbye' to whoever was on the other end.

His long legs quickly close the distance between us and I am rather theatrically swept into his arms and given a very passionate kiss. It reminds of some of the embraces I've seen Elliot give Kate – the ones I've been both amused by and wildly jealous of. I'm not sure what has come over Christian, but it is certainly taking my breath away and I wholeheartedly approve.

"How are you?" he asks, still holding me with his arms looped around my waist. "I'm sorry I didn't ask about your visit with Dr. Greene earlier, I was just distracted by all the bullshit with the contractor. Did everything go well?"

He sounds genuinely concerned. Jeez, it was just a routine exam.

"It was fine. Dr. Greene says I'm perfectly healthy."

He smiles as if in relief. "Good. So what method did you settle on?"

"The mini pill."

"I was sort of hoping you'd opt for the shot," he says with a slight frown. "You can't be forgetful if you're taking the mini pill. You must take them on schedule," he lectures.

I suspect this has to do with my forgetting to turn my phone back on the other day. Apparently I haven't yet lived that one down. I barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "Dr. Greene went over all that. I'll set a daily alarm on my phone for it."

"Be sure that you do," he warns as he holds me by my upper arms and pushes me slightly away from him so he can look me over. Apparently he likes what he sees, because he is smiling again. "Your hair is lovely," he says as he reaches up to run his fingers through it. "I'm happy to see that they did very little to it. You certainly didn't need it. So, how was the spa experience?" he asks curiously. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

He looks hopeful and I get the feeling that he really did want me to enjoy it, which makes me feel a bit better about fulfilling that contractual clause.

"It was fun," I say honestly. "I really liked Franco, and the massage was to die for."

"_But…"_ he prompts. He can always tell when I'm holding back.

I frown apologetically. "I didn't like the full-body wrap thing. It made me uncomfortable."

His expression darkens. Oh no! I thought he wanted me to be honest with him.

"They didn't let a man do that to you did they?"

"No!" I exclaim a little too loudly. I'm just so relieved that he's simply jealous, rather than angry that I dared dislike a service he purchased for me. "Surely they wouldn't let a man do _that_ to a woman," I add.

"Not to my woman," he agrees. "Not if they don't want that man dead. So, what didn't you like about it? I need to know if any of the staff was discourteous to you, I'll make sure they're tossed out on their ass. You better have been treated like royalty."

I know he is dead serious, so I decide not to mention the odd vibe I felt from that lady, Elena. Kate's probably right, I'm just not used to this sort of thing and I certainly don't want to be responsible for anyone losing their job.

"No, it wasn't that. Everyone was very polite and friendly. It was just weird." I shrug and chew on my bottom lip. "I don't feel comfortable with a stranger having their hands on me like that. It's kind of embarrassing. _You know?"_

He nods, apparently satisfied with my reply. "I'm sorry, Ana. I should have taken into account how innocent you are. I only ordered that because it is supposedly one of the best skin treatments around and I wanted to spoil you. I never meant for you to feel uncomfortable. If you don't like it, it's off the list. Your skin doesn't need the help anyway."

I smile happily._ He wants to spoil me! _Hearing that makes me feel somewhat better about the outrageous sums of money he's spending on me. It seems less like he's 'purchasing my services' when he puts it that way. Plus, it also sounds like this spa day was actually intended to be fun for me, and not just a way for him to fix what he doesn't like.

"Hungry?" he asks. _It always comes back to food with him. _

"Not for food," I say softly.

He grins at my reply and shakes his head. "Always so eager, Miss Steele. You know I like that. But I need you well fed before I take you to my playroom. Can't have you passing out on me."

Oh my. That sounds promising.

* * *

"Today will be a first for me as well, Anastasia," Christian says with a mischievous grin as he leads me into my bedroom by the hand.

I raise a brow at him, unsure of his meaning. It will definitely be my first time in his playroom, but I doubt there are many firsts to be had in there for Christian. I'm sure he's done things in that room that I never even dreamed existed… and probably some things I don't want to know exist.

With a wink he reaches into a dresser drawer and pulls out a small bundle of clothing and a shoe box. I can see the tags are still hanging from the clothes. He must have purchased them recently.

"Dress-up and role playing games are extremely popular on the BDSM scene, but in the past those things have held little interest for me. I've never been into that particular type of fun and games, so to speak… _until now," _he adds with a wink, holding the bundle toward me. "I want you to put this on - _and only this on_ - then wait for me in the playroom. And I want your hair in pigtails this time. Exactly like the ones you had on the first morning you were here. You have ten minutes," he orders sternly. With that he exits my room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I take the bundle and set it down on the bed so I can get a better look at each individual piece. I actually have to stifle a giggle when I realize what he's purchased for me. This man is so kinky!

He's given me a catholic schoolgirl outfit! But I sincerely doubt that the Pope would approve of this one. No, this one is definitely more Britney Spears than Mother Theresa. And it seems awfully playful and very un-Christian as well. I totally believe that this is a new thing for him.

The ensemble consists of an obscenely short plaid skirt, a tiny white button-down shirt, a pair of knee socks, and black Mary Jane style shoes. There is even a pair of plain, white cotton underwear in the pile, but no bra. I take it I am supposed to go sans bra for this adventure. I shake my head, completely speechless. Just… _wow!_

More than excited, I quickly shed my jeans and t-shirt for my naughty new costume – _with no bra_ - and put my hair in pigtails as ordered. I know he said to wear 'only' these things, but I want to look my best for him. Surely he won't mind a tiny bit of pink lip gloss.

As I make my way to the playroom with plenty of time to spare, I'm struck by how glad I am that I've never seen Taylor upstairs. I would seriously die if he saw me like this.

The door to the playroom is unlocked and I enter to find it empty. Apprehension immediately begins to replace a bit of my excitement.

_Of course it makes you apprehensive. This looks like a sex-torture dungeon!_

God, I hope not. But I have to admit this place is intimidating and imposing, much like Christian himself. The room looks exactly the same as it did on the day Christian gave me the tour. I immediately recall the clean, rich scent of polished wood and leather.

Some of the items in here are very enticing, which is why I've been so keen on getting in here. I particularly like the look of the huge, four poster bed with attached shackles. So far I have enjoyed being restrained and am eager to experience more of it. But the rack of canes, paddles, and whips is just as terrifying as it was the first time I was in here, maybe even more so this time - seeing as how he may decide to use one on me. This is the part that worries me. I feel like there is a darkness lurking in here that I will not be prepared to absorb. Deep down, I am afraid that if I don't find some way to shed a light on that darkness, it will swallow me whole.

The door swinging opening interrupts me from my disturbing train of thought. Christian strides in looking incredibly hot in nothing more than a pair of worn and faded blue jeans. In his right hand is a blue, plastic ruler. _What does he plan to do with that?_ Confidence and authority radiate off of him in waves that seem to be adjusted to the exact frequency of my libido. _Holy cow!_

He gives a half-smile when he catches my regard, but technically it is more of a smirk than a smile. He looks colder, harder, and somehow even more in-control than he usually does. The only indicators to his mood are his dilated pupils and the huge bulge in the front of his jeans.

"Anastasia, I don't recall giving you permission to look at me."

His voice is soft, but there is an edge to it that tells me disobedience will not be tolerated. I quickly avert my gaze to my feet.

My pulse quickens as he steps up as close as he can get to me without touching. I can feel his breath on me and try to keep still while he stares, but it is difficult because it feels as if his gaze is burning into me. Finally, he grabs one of my hands and presses a soft kiss into the palm.

"I like you in this outfit," he remarks. "You look awfully sweet… good enough to eat."

Using the ruler he holds in his other hand, he flips one of my pigtails back over my shoulder and then runs the end of the ruler lightly across my breast, causing my nipple to tighten.

"You're not wearing a bra," he remarks. "That's very naughty, Miss Steele."

"_But you told me not-"_

He quickly cuts me off. "_Quiet._ When you are in this room you will not speak unless I ask you a direct question. Is that clear?"

"Yes," I whisper and immediately feel the stinging slap of the ruler against my palm. "Yes, sir," I quickly amend.

"That's better," he murmurs. "Remember that when you cross this threshold you are mine to do with exactly as I see fit. You will not look at me or touch me without permission. You will not speak unless I bid you to and you will not hesitate to follow my orders. And most importantly, I won't tolerate your smart mouth in here, Anastasia. I am _Sir_ or _Mr. Grey_ to you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I answer quickly.

"Good girl," he responds and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Now look at me."

I look up at him shyly and find myself highly intimidated by the look in his eyes. His gaze is hard, scorching, predatory… And as frightening as it is, I can still feel all the muscles in my lower belly clench in response to him. I am his. I'll do anything he asks.

He tugs lightly on the hand he is still holding and leads me across the room toward the doorway. He points to a spot near the door with the ruler. "Kneel there," he orders softly.

I quickly obey and kneel down on my knees a bit awkwardly and look up at him in anticipation of further orders.

"Sit back on your heels," he continues. "Good. Eyes on the floor and spread your legs… wider, wider… _perfect._ Now place your palms flat on the tops of your thighs."

Once again, I do as I'm told and adjust my position until he is satisfied. I feel an urge to kiss his bare feet when he comes closer, but don't dare.

"This is even more incredible than I imagined," he remarks in a breathy voice and I can feel his gaze boring into me as he looms over me. "You have no idea how beautiful you look, Ana. Maybe I should install a mirror in here so you can see for yourself. You're absolutely captivating."

I don't say anything, as I don't believe I'm supposed to, but the suspense is killing me. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my head. Whatever he's going to do to me, I wish he'd just do it. I'm going to explode!

"Remember this position, Anastasia. This is the one you're to take whenever I tell you to come in here. Unless I specify otherwise, you will come only in your panties and you will kneel here and you will wait for me… for as long as it takes. Will you remember?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well done. Now, look at me."

I peek up to see him looking down at me with dark eyes. The bulge in his jeans is now even more pronounced.

"You're biting your lip," he remarks, his own lips twisting into a wry smile. "And you're also wearing gloss. Seems you just can't resist doing your own thing. It reminds me of something I've wanted to do for a very long time… Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, in fact. I'm going to fuck that beautiful, smart mouth of yours Anastasia." As he talks, he pops the buttons on his worn jeans and his erection springs free. "Get to work, baby," he orders. "I'm not a patient man."

Desire and excitement course through me. I'm on my knees preparing to give oral sex in a pornographic schoolgirl uniform. This is very kinky and, as it turns out, it _seriously_ turns me on. I wrap one of my hands around his erection and push back hard, the way he showed me. I feel triumphant when his breath hitches in his throat.

"No hands unless I say so, Ana," he scolds in a strained voice. "Mouth only."

I quickly place my hands back on the tops my thighs and close my mouth over him instead.

"_Ahhh… yes," _he groans. "Finally I get to fuck that smart mouth of yours."

I see him place the ruler in his back pocket and then he reaches down and grabs one of my pigtails in each of his hands. He pulls on them, bringing my head forward and filling my mouth at a slow and steady pace until I feel him at the back of my throat. I believe he is seeing how much of him I can take.

"Damn, Ana… I can't believe you can do that."

Pride and pleasure spike through my body at his remark. Soon he is thrusting slowly in and out of my mouth as he keeps a firm grip on my pigtails. It's amazing how turned on this makes me, considering the fact that he's only touching my hair.

"I'm going to come, Anastasia. Swallow every drop or I'll spank you," he growls.

I can do this. After all, I've already earned an 'A' in oral skills. And this time I'm much more prepared for the warm, salty liquid pouring down my throat. But this time there's more of it. _Holy crap!_ I worry that I won't manage to get it all down this time, but to my relief I do.

When he's finished he stands back up, breathing heavily, and stares down at me with something close to amazement on his face. My goddess takes and exultant bow.

"Excellent job, Anastasia," he praises. "You're doing very well."

I smile, absurdly happy that he is pleased with me. _Who knew?_

"Stand up," he orders softly and I quickly obey. The ruler is back in his hand and he is running it slowly over both of my breasts, increasing the pressure as he slides across my nipples. They are so hard by this point that it's almost painful and I whimper.

"Hush now, baby," he warns. "You'll get release when I'm ready and only when I'm ready. That's the lesson for today."

I swallow hard. It's such a sensual threat.

He begins slowly unbuttoning my top. "I want to see those lovely tits of yours… _Perfect,"_ he whispers as he pushes the shirt off my shoulders and reaches out to pinch one of my nipples. "Now take your shoes off."

I quickly bend over to follow his command, but the ruler bites me with a stinging slap to the back of my thigh when I start to remove the socks. _Ouch! _I reach back and rub the offended spot and am sure I throw him a scowl.

"Careful," he warns in a low growl. "I only said shoes, Ana. You have to learn how to follow my instructions to the letter. Now get on the bed and kneel on your hands and knees."

Oh yes! The bed. Here we go. I like this command. I can't obey quickly enough.

"So eager," he remarks as he strolls toward me. "Good girl, Ana. I like that. I can't wait to fuck you. But first I'm going to cuff your hands and ankles. Can't have you escaping me now."

His threat hits me right between the legs and I feel like I may come without even being touched. I kneel there quietly while he efficiently arranges the links of chain to allow for the proper amount of slack, and then cuffs first my ankles and then my wrists.

"Beautiful," he murmurs as he stands back to take in his handiwork, admiring the sight of me trussed up on my hands and knees barely dressed. I blush under his intense regard and instinctively twist my head around when he climbs up onto the bed behind me. "Eyes forward," he snaps and I feel the bite of the ruler again, this time against my backside. It's painful, but it also inflames my desire somehow.

He flips my skirt up and caresses my backside over the cotton panties. Even though his movements are slow and deliberate, his uneven breathing gives him away. He's definitely turned on too.

I gasp when he runs one finger down my backside and across my sex. His touch is so light. It's like torture.

"These panties are soaked, Anastasia," he says in a low voice. "I haven't even touched you yet. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I don't know what I'm supposed to say. My mind is blank. I just want him inside me.

I feel the ruler hit my backside again and cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. I probably should have expected that one.

"Ana," he prompts darkly. "I asked you a question. Why are you such a wet girl? Tell me."

"Because I want you," I whimper.

He groans in pleasure. "Where do you want me?"

Oh god, he really has no mercy. "Inside of me," I murmur.

He slips a finger into the side of my panties and enters me just a tiny bit. I cry out loudly at the contact. "Is this what you want inside of you?" he asks.

"I want more of you," I beg. "Please, Chri- _Please, sir,"_ I beg, quickly correcting myself. "Please."

"Oh baby, you are _so_ sweet. I'm going to have so much fun teaching you to talk dirty for me. You're going to be a very naughty girl for me, Anastasia…. _and only for me_," he emphasizes. "I promise you that."

I don't doubt him. Right now I'd do absolutely anything he asked. I'm going to go crazy if he doesn't give me some release soon.

Slowly he slides the panties down my backside and then with one loud rip he tears them completely off and tosses the pieces toward the head of the bed so I can see. _Oh god!_

That's when he really begins the torture. With his fingers and tongue he brings me to the brink of orgasm again and again, but always pulls back at the very last moment.

"_Please!"_ I groan desperately and am rewarded with another stinging slap from the ruler.

"You only get to come when I'm ready for you to, Miss Steele. I've told you that."

I whimper and lose myself in sensation again. This time he goes further and I know that I won't be able to stop my orgasm from overtaking me. How could I?

"Don't come, Anastasia," he warns softly, but he must know I can't help myself. I cry out as my orgasm slams into me. _"Oh Ana,"_ I hear him scold, but he doesn't exactly sound displeased - quite the opposite, in fact. Still, he hits my backside hard with the ruler and somehow my orgasm spikes even higher. The next thing I know he is buried deep within me. It's such a shocking assault on my senses. I really think I may die of pleasure.

* * *

I am unsure exactly how long we spent inside the playroom or how many orgasms I ended up having, although I suspect he's still keeping count. He is Mr. Control Freak. He didn't hurt me though and my subconscious warns me not to get a false sense of security from that.

Following our marathon playroom session, I believe I passed out. I barely remember him carrying me to my bed. When I awoke, we had dinner and then more sex, but this time on his bed. I'd say that round was vanilla, but there were handcuffs involved.

But even after all the mind blowing pleasure, what followed was still what meant the most to me, and I'm sure that makes me a silly girl who is just asking for a broken heart.

He took me to the other playroom - the one that actually has a Play Station. He handed over the remote and I watched old movies while he sat beside me and worked on his laptop. I know I'm not the expert on what real couples do, but this seemed so normal to me. But maybe he does this with all his subs and it has no special meaning behind it. I want to ask, but I don't, because I'm afraid of the answer. I don't want to break the spell. I just want to enjoy this peaceful moment while it lasts. I really am in deep.

By the time I go to bed that evening I am well past the point of exhaustion. Thankfully, I am so tired that I fall asleep quickly and am unable to linger on my disappointment at being left alone again. At some point during the early morning hours I am startled awake once again and, yet again, I believe I've heard a scream. Two nights in a row - that can't be a coincidence.

I lie there listening just as I did the night before and, sure enough, the soft strains of a piano melody drift up the stairs not long afterwards. It is not loud at all. If I wasn't already awake, it wouldn't have disturbed me.

What is going on? Was that Christian screaming? I have to know.

I start to climb out of bed, but notice that I no longer hear the sounds of the piano, but I am fairly sure I do hear soft footfalls on the stairs. I reach over to turn on the bedside lamp and Christian's face is illuminated in the doorway. He looks so ashen and vulnerable. What is going on here?

"Christian!" I gasp as I swing my legs over the bedside. "What's wrong?"

"Lie back down," he orders softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

He looks embarrassed and a bit unsure of himself, which is so unexpected. I sink back against the pillows and watch him cautiously. He gives me a self-conscious smile and shrugs slightly. "Scoot," he commands, "turn on your side, facing the wall." He's so bossy! But he also sounds so much more like himself that it is reassuring, and I am beyond thrilled that he's coming to bed with me. I quickly do as I'm bid.

_He probably just wants to screw_, my subconscious snarks helpfully. I so hope that she is wrong. I want him to want to be here with me. I don't want him to fuck me and then leave. I'm not sure I could take that. I think it would break my heart.

The lamp is switched off and I feel the mattress dip with Christian's weight as he climbs into the bed. I realize I'm holding my breath in anticipation of what is to come. After a moment, he stretches out beside me, gathers me against him so that my back is pressed tightly against his chest, then presses his nose into my hair and inhales deeply. "Go back to sleep, baby," he whispers.

It's hard to express the joy I feel at that moment, which is no doubt another sign that I've allowed myself to get far too emotionally attached to this man who likely only sees me as a contractual arrangement. But my joy is lessened quite a bit by the realization that something must have truly upset him. His demeanor was so off when he came in here and his skin feels clammy against me… then there was the scream. I _know_ it was a scream.

"Christian, are you okay? Tell me what's wrong."

"_Fifty shades_, Ana," he says with a sigh. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want that ugly crap in your head. Just go back to sleep, please."

His plea contains a note of desperation that I've never heard from him before, so I don't push him any further. At least he is here with me. Surely that means something.

* * *

A/N: Wanted to get a playroom scene in, because it didn't seem plausible that Christian would put it off any longer. Hopefully it worked out okay. Thought I'd get in a bit of smutty and sweet, since next chapter some things will most definitely hit the fan. Oh and did anyone catch the tiny Supernatural reference (words of Kevin the Prophet)? I can't help myself, that's my primary fandom and I've been neglecting it lately in favor of this story. Please, please let me know if Christian ever starts sounding like Dean Winchester.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm stealing excerpts from Book 1 again (the dinner scene). *is lazy* Plus, honestly, there were parts of it that I didn't see a need in changing, so I worked around them. This is one of those places where canon happens to mesh with what I'm trying to do with the story. It seemed fitting to leave those parts as-is.

All credit goes to E. L. James. I'm only playing.

XXXXX

I feel a bit like I'm being smothered, trapped under the dead weight of Christian's heavy limbs. His arm is thrown over my waist and one of his legs is hooked over both of mine, preventing me from moving.

_But he's still here with me!_

It wasn't just a dream and he didn't wake-up and leave before morning. I'll happily take being a little too hot and uncomfortable if it means waking up in his arms.

I have to tug my hair from beneath him before I can roll over, but he doesn't wake up. He looks so innocent and young lying there asleep, but I know that's just an illusion – _the innocent part is, anyway_. The truth is that he hasn't been innocent for a very long time. That was stolen when he was fifteen and that horrible Mrs. Robinson got a hold of him. Is she the reason he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night? God, how I'd love to give that woman a piece of my mind! I can't help but wonder if Christian and I might've been able to have a more normal relationship if it hadn't been for that perverted pedophile.

Since Christian is unaware, I take the opportunity to get a closer look at the scars on his chest. I think maybe they are just scars from a particularly nasty bout of chicken pox. But, deep down, I know that's just wishful thinking. Last night, he as much as admitted that they were the result of something horrible – part of the reason why he refuses to let me touch him. And I want to touch him so badly!

Does he think the scars make him seem less attractive? Is that why? _Surely not._ He's still absolutely gorgeous and those scars aren't even that noticeable anyway. I just wish he would open up and tell me, because the scenarios my mind keeps coming up with are probably (_hopefully_) far more horrible than the truth.

Any thoughts of reaching out and touching him are put on hold when Christian's eyes flutter open. For a moment there appears to be a bit of surprise in his gaze, but he quickly hides it.

"Good morning, Miss Steele," he says with a smile. He's so adorably cute with his mussed-up bedhead.

"Mr. Grey," I greet with an answering smile of my own. "How did you sleep?"

"Good… really well, actually." Once again, he looks surprised. "Damn. I thought it was just a fluke," he says curiously, sounding like he's talking mostly to himself.

"Thought what was a fluke?"

"Nothing," he replies, giving me his most blinding smile - the one that speaks directly to my inner goddess. I'm pretty sure he does that on purpose. He seems to deflect all uncomfortable conversations with sex. But not this time, I'm too curious.

"Didn't sound like nothing," I venture.

"Are you calling me a liar?" he asks, rolling on top of me, pinning me beneath his weight, and gripping both of my hands above my head in just one of his own. His eyes are smoldering as he leans down to nibble on my throat. "Just so you know, I have all sorts of creative punishments in mind if you are…"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Grey. I'm only curious."

He continues his assault on my senses, using his free hand to slip beneath my camisole and tease the tender skin beneath my breast with his thumb. "Curiosity killed the cat, Anastasia… and I can think of so many more interesting ways to pass the time."

I groan. Dammit, he's breaking down my resolve. He's way too good at that.

"Shit!" he exclaims suddenly, taking me by surprise.

"What?"

"I don't have any condoms up here. I really should keep a box in every room."

_Every room? _My goddess likes the sound of that.

Rather reluctantly he rolls off of me and sits up. There's a pouty frown on his face that makes me want to giggle. You'd think someone had cancelled Christmas.

"I can't wait until you start taking your pill. This condom thing is a hassle and I want to feel all of you. I hate those damn things," he grumbles in disgust. "Do you think your period is about to start?"

_Great, we're back to uncomfortable, personal questions again_.

"I don't know, Christian. It should be."

"Well, do you have cramps? Feel overly emotional? Have a headache? Any of the usual signs?"

I blush. Honestly, that's a bit too much - especially the 'overly emotional' part. "Getting a bit personal, aren't you?" I ask with a bite of sarcasm in my tone.

He narrows his eyes at me in clear warning. "I don't see it that way, Ana. You're mine. Everything about you concerns me. I'll expect you to get used to it."

_Okay. _Great. When did this become an argument? The morning started out with such promise.

"Let's go have some breakfast," he says, seemingly happy once again. Another mood swing already and he's been awake for less than five minutes. I hope that's not a sign of things to come.

XXXXXXXXXX

He doesn't ask me to, but I cook breakfast for him, making a Greek omelet with some feta cheese I found in the fridge. It was just automatic. I always cooked for Ray when I lived at home, and Kate's not exactly Martha Stewart in the kitchen, so it comes natural.

Christian seems pleased and compliments my cooking, but I can't shake the feeling that he expected me to do this, that making him meals is part of the job description of a sub. I really don't mind to cook. In fact, I often enjoy it, but the thought that it's a sub's duty makes me a little uncomfortable.

_Why should it? You ARE a sub. You signed the paperwork, remember? _

Oh, shut up. I know I signed and I'm enjoying this experience _for the most part_, but I still want more. It really hit me hard last night when he came to my bed. I want more of that sort of thing. I want more, period. I want to be the girlfriend too. Perhaps I should broach the subject again when he appears to be in the right frame of mind?

_Or perhaps you should let him come to that conclusion on his own. Refuse to see him during the week. Set some boundaries. Make him come to you,_ my goddess whispers.

Wow, she's so much more confident than I am. Could I really do that? Would it work or would he decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth? It's not like I'm sure he'll even want to see me during the week. He'll probably be more than happy to stick to the original Friday evening through Sunday evening arrangement. So, worrying about it is a waste of energy. I should just talk to him.

_Just wait and see what happens when Monday rolls around._

Maybe I will do that, because for once, my two inner voices seem to be in agreement with one another. That just may be a first. I should probably make a note of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the day is quite amazing. He takes me to the playroom again, and this time he binds me to the odd, cross-looking thing and works me over with a riding crop. It's so much like the erotic dream I had recently, that I have to wonder if he really can read minds. Once again, it is much more pleasure than pain and I'm feeling more confident about that part of our arrangement.

To be quite honest, I like the playroom – A LOT. I find I have no problem being his sub while we are in there. Actually, I enjoy it immensely. For some reason, it is different. I can compartmentalize it when we're locked away inside the four walls of that room. It is like another world, a world where everyday life seems very far away. I know the rules when I'm in there and it all seems right... and mind-blowingly erotic.

Outside the playroom on the other hand - that is the real challenge. Although Christian has been rather pleasant and easy to get along with today, I know my troubles there are far from over. I feel as if I'm still walking a fine line, trying to find my way among his rules and his decree to 'act as myself'. It is not an easy task.

In the afternoon, I relax in his impressive library and read a first-edition of Robin Crusoe while he does some work. I do wonder if he ever actually takes a day off. It can't be good for him to push himself the way he does. Of course, it explains why he's so successful at such a young age. But what good is all that success if he doesn't take time out to enjoy it?

Once he's done, we enjoy some time in his bed again and then we jump into the shower together.

"We're going to my parents for dinner tonight," he announces casually as he soaps my back. "Elliot is supposed to bring Kate as well."

I inhale sharply and nearly choke on the stream of water coming out of the showerhead. I did not expect this.

"I sent out for a dress. Don't be difficult about it," he warns sternly. "The rest of your wardrobe should arrive early in the week, but I knew you probably wouldn't bring any dress clothes this weekend. My parents' dinner affairs are always a bit on the formal side."

"Okay," I relent quietly. Honestly, I would have brought something nice if he'd warned me ahead of time, but I have larger concerns. "What are you going to tell your family about us?" I ask cautiously.

"I'm not telling them anything," he says dismissively as he continues to rub soap over my skin. "As far as they're concerned you're my girlfriend. I see no reason to go into the details of my private life."

Darn! That doesn't tell me much. I want to know how _he_ refers to me. Surely I'm not JUST a sub…. I hope not, anyway.

"Oh… umm… So, did you introduce your other subs to your family?"

Christian's hands still and he sounds a bit irritable when he finally replies. "No Anastasia, I did not," he says shortly. "I thought I made it clear that I've always kept my private life and my family life separate. I don't know why you're so obsessed with my other subs."

"I was just curious," I say, trying to sound neutral and hide the huge gloating feeling I have. Because, despite his gruff tone, I am extremely, over-the-moon happy with his answer. And yes, I was fairly sure the other subs never met his family, but I wanted to hear him say it.

XXXXXXXXXX

It is just before eight when the Audi turns into the driveway of a colonial-style mansion. It's breathtaking, even down to the roses around the door. Picture-book perfect. I am suddenly very glad for the classic and, no-doubt, terribly overpriced little-black-dress and high heels I'm wearing. The house itself just screams formality. My jeans and Chucks would have been very out-of-place indeed.

"Are you ready for this?" Christian asks as Taylor pulls up outside the impressive front door. I nod, and he gives my hand another reassuring squeeze.

"First for me, too," he whispers.

I smile up at him, feeling more confident._ I so love hearing that!_

Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey is on the doorstep waiting for us. She looks elegantly sophisticated in a pale blue silk dress. Behind her stands Mr. Grey, I presume, tall, blond, and as handsome in his own way as Christian.

"Anastasia, you've met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick."

"Mr. Grey, what a pleasure to meet you." I smile and shake his outstretched hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Anastasia." His blue eyes are soft and gentle.

"Please, call me Ana."

"Ana, how lovely to see you again." Grace wraps me in a warm hug. "Come in, my dear."

"Is she here?" I hear a screech from within the house. I glance nervously at Christian.

"That would be Mia, my little sister," he says almost irritably, but not quite. There's an undercurrent of affection in his words, the way his voice grows softer and his eyes crinkle as he mentions her name. Christian obviously adores her. It's a revelation. And she comes barreling down the hall, raven haired, tall, and curvaceous. She's about my age.

"Anastasia! I've heard so much about you." She hugs me hard.

_Holy cow_. I can't help but smile at her boundless enthusiasm.

"Ana, please," I murmur as she drags me into the large vestibule. It's all dark wood floors and antique rugs with a sweeping staircase to the second floor.

"He's never brought a girl home before," says Mia, dark eyes bright with excitement.

I glimpse Christian rolling his eyes, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He narrows his eyes at me.

"Mia, calm down," Grace admonishes softly. "Hello, darling," she says as she kisses Christian on both cheeks. He smiles down at her warmly, and then shakes hands with his father.

We all turn and head into the living room. Mia has not let go of my hand. The room is spacious, tastefully furnished in creams, browns, and pale blues— comfortable, understated, and very stylish.

Kate and Elliot are cuddled together on a couch, clutching champagne flutes. Kate bounces up to embrace me, and Mia finally releases my hand.

"Hi, Ana!" She beams. "Christian." She nods curtly to him.

"Kate." He is equally formal with her.

I frown at their exchange. Elliot grasps me in an all-embracing hug. What is this, Hug Ana Week? This dazzling display of affection— I'm just not used to it. Christian stands at my side, wrapping his arm around me. Placing his hand on my hip, he spreads out his fingers and pulls me close.

I'm so pleased by his display of affection in front of his family, but everyone is staring at us. It's unnerving. I think my flushed face finally gives away my discomfort, because the occupants of the room finally quits gawking.

Christian and I take a seat on the couch, while his father pours two glasses of white wine for us.

"We were just talking about vacations, Ana," Mr. Grey says kindly. "Elliot has decided to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week."

I glance at Kate, and she grins, her eyes bright and wide. She's delighted. Katherine Kavanagh, show some dignity!

"Are you taking a break now that you've finished your degree?" Mr. Grey asks.

"Not so much," I shrug, not wanting to go into the fact that I simply can't afford to do so. "It all depends on how my interviews go. I plan to start working as soon as possible."

"You have interviews?" Mr. Grey asks. "May I ask where?"

Christian is watching me with great interest, but I decide to skirt the question. I'm still not telling Fifty Shades of Control Freak where I'm interviewing.

"Yes," I reply with a smile, "for internships at two publishers, tomorrow." _Fingers crossed that he doesn't ask which specific publishers._

"Well, I wish you the best of luck," Mr. Grey says sincerely as he raises his glass in toast.

_Phew, _that was a close one. I am still afraid Christian will decide to play dirty and push the issue, however. I wouldn't put it past him. But, much to my relief, Grace steps in and announces that the meal is ready. I am saved by the dinner bell.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The dining room reminds me of our private dinner at the Heathman. A crystal chandelier hangs over the dark wood table and there's a massive, ornately carved mirror on the wall. The table, covered with a crisp white linen tablecloth, is set, with a bowl of pale pink peonies as the centerpiece. It's stunning. We take our places. Mr. Grey is at the head of the table, while I sit at his right hand, and Christian is seated beside me.

Mr. Grey reaches for the opened bottle of red wine and offers some to Kate. Mia takes her seat beside Christian and, grabbing his hand, squeezes it tightly. Christian smiles warmly at her.

"Where did you meet, Ana?" Mia asks him.

"She interviewed me for the WSU student newspaper."

"Which Kate edits," I add, hoping to steer the conversation away from me, Christian, and our bizarre contractual arrangement.

Mia beams at Kate, seated opposite next to Elliot, and they start talking about the student newspaper.

With that crisis averted, the rest of dinner goes smoothly as I mostly listen to the casual chit-chat going around the table. Luckily for me, Mia and Kate can command a room all by themselves, so I'm saved from answering any awkward questions about my relationship with Christian.

I'm very pleased with how the night has been going. Christian's family is very nice and welcoming, and Christian himself is being extremely charming and seems relaxed. Anyone would think that we are indeed just boyfriend and girlfriend.

But, as usual, just when I think things are going smoothly, the entire situation starts to crumble.

First, Christian places his hand on my knee— his fingers traveling up my thigh. My whole body tightens in response. _No… not here, not now_. I flush and close my legs tightly. His hand clamps down on my thigh, stilling me.

I steal a glance at him and he's pissed. Actually, I'd say shocked is a more accurate term.

_Seriously? He's surprised I stopped him? We're at his parents' dinner table for heaven's sake!_

Then, as if that wasn't enough, Kate strikes.

"Oh Ana," she blurts out suddenly, "I've been meaning to tell you. This morning, I noticed that those roses Jose bought you are still absolutely perfect. It's amazing!" she gushes. "Usually they're starting to wither by the third day." She cuts her eyes briefly to Christian and beams her most brilliant smile.

_Oh God! Kate, you have no idea what you're doing. I'm going to murder you!_

"The boy bought you flowers?" Christian asks, tightening his grip on my thigh. "I wasn't aware of that." His tone is conversational and calm, but I know better. Fury is brewing just below the surface, _just ask my thigh._

"He… uh… yeah. _It was nothing_," I emphasize. "He just wanted to apologize for…" I pause; everyone is staring at me now. _Thanks Kate!_ I am so NOT sharing the details of my drunken shame with Christian's family, so I shrug and promptly drop that subject. "They were yellow roses. Those are supposed to mean friendship, and he wanted to wish Kate and I well in our new place."

"But he didn't give flowers to Kate, now did he?" Christian asks with a raised brow. He has a smile on his face. Anyone else would probably think he was teasing me, but again- _I know better. _At least he has moved his hand and is no longer bruising my leg.

"He mentioned her in the card," I say weakly.

"Looks like you've got some competition there, son," his father remarks with good humor.

Christian just smirks.

_Holy fucking crap! _I really am going to kill Kate for this – slowly and painfully. And she looks so pleased with herself! I know she means well, but she has no concept of the size of the hornets' nest she's stirring.

"He's just a friend," I hasten to add.

Then - _god help me_ - Elliot pipes up with his own helpful take on the matter.

"I'm sure he is in your book, Ana, but I'm thinking he's got different ideas." He winks at me from across the table and then turns his attention to Christian. "You want me to take him out for you, little brother?" he asks with a devious grin. "Just say the word, man. I can be real discreet."

"Sure you can," Kate scoffs, giving him a punch to the shoulder. "I'd call poor Jose and warn him if I didn't know you'd be the worst assassin ever."

Elliot pretends to be insulted. "That's not true! I'm practically Jason Bourne."

"Uh huh." Kate rolls her eyes dramatically.

Kate and Elliot are off, teasing one another and flirting shamelessly. And, thankfully, that seems to be the end of the Jose line of conversation. Everyone else moves on to other subjects, even Christian. Although I'm not naïve enough to think he's forgotten. He's just biding his time. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.

I just thank the merciful heavens that the main course has been served and cleared away by this point. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to eat due to nerves, and Christian would have another reason to be angry with me. As it is, I am nursing the heck out of my last glass of wine, but I know that excuse won't hold up for much longer.

Christian stands, echoing my thoughts exactly. "Come Anastasia," he says smoothly, offering me his hand. "I'd like to show you the grounds."

I hold up my wine glass like a shield. "But, I'm not finished."

"I think you've had enough," he says in a low voice, so only I can hear. There's a challenge in his eyes. He's just daring me to defy him, and I know I'm in enough trouble as it is. _Not that I should be._

I set the mostly empty glass aside and allow him to draw me up beside him. No point in delaying the inevitable, I suppose.

"I'm going to show Ana around, Mom," he says politely to his mother. Grace just smiles and tells us to enjoy ourselves. I'm sure she thinks this is all perfectly innocent, but I know better.

We step out onto a gray flagstone patio area lit by recessed lights in the rock. There are shrubs in gray stone tubs and a chic metal table and chairs set up in one corner. Christian walks past those, up some steps, and onto a vast lawn that leads down to the bay. Oh my— it's beautiful. Seattle twinkles on the horizon and the cool, bright May moon etches a sparkling silver path across the water toward a jetty where two boats are moored. Beside the jetty stands a boathouse. It is so picturesque, so peaceful. I stand and gape for a moment.

Christian pulls me behind him, and my heels sink into the soft grass.

"Stop, please." I am stumbling in his wake.

He stops and gazes at me, his expression unfathomable.

"My heels. I need to take my shoes off."

"Don't bother," he says, and he bends down and scoops me over his shoulder. I squeal loudly with shocked surprise, and he gives me a ringing slap on my behind.

"Keep your voice down," he growls.

Oh no … this is not good. My subconscious is quaking at the knees.

"Christian, please don't be angry," I plead a bit desperately. "I was going to tell you about the flowers. Honestly, I just forgot."

"Don't worry, Anastasia," he says in a measured tone. "I'm not angry… _I'm absolutely furious."_

_Crap!_

"Where are we going?" I breathe.

"Boathouse," he snaps.

I hang on to his hips as I'm tipped upside down, and he strides purposefully in the moonlight across the lawn.

"Why?" I sound breathless, bouncing on this shoulder.

"I need to be alone with you."

"What for?"

"Because I'm going to spank and then fuck you."

"Why?" I whimper softly.

"You know why," he hisses.

_Holy fuck!_

_XXXXXXXXXXXX_

Christian bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some switches. Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive cruiser in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he's carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above.

He pauses at the doorway and flips another switch— halogens, this time, that are softer, on a dimmer— and we're in an attic room with sloping ceilings. It's decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with dashes of red. The furnishings are sparse, just a couple of couches are all I can see.

Christian sets me on my feet on the wooden floor. I don't have time to examine my surroundings— my eyes can't leave him. I am mesmerized … watching him like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike. His breathing is harsh, but then he's just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. Gray eyes blaze with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust.

Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from his look alone.

"Please don't hit me," I whisper, pleading.

His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice.

"I don't want you to spank me, Christian. I didn't do anything wrong. Please don't."

His mouth drops open in surprise. "What do you mean you didn't do anything wrong?!" he snaps incredulously. "You kept the flowers from me! Then you closed your legs! You tried to deny me what's mine!"

"Christian we were at your parents' dinner table! I was only trying to respect your family in their own home."

He frowns, seemingly unable to find a good argument against my logic.

"And the flowers?" he spits, obviously finding what he feels is a more suitable subject to hang his rage on.

"They didn't mean anything," I attempt to explain. "I forgot to tell you because I was so preoccupied with… well, e_verything_. Christian, they meant nothing to me, and I promise that the card was just a friendly note. I'll show it to you if you'd like."

He grabs my arm above the elbow. "Well, Miss Steele," he says tightly. "Perhaps if I spank you hard enough, you won't forget to share such _insignificant_ details in the future."

Oh no! Is he really going to do this against my wishes?

"No," I say bravely, pulling my arm free of his grip. "I'm not giving my consent to this."

Christian looks outraged. I'm honestly afraid he may explode.

"You can't do that!" he exclaims. "As my sub you don't question your punishment. You're supposed to yield to me in all things."

"But I'm scared of you when you're this angry, Christian. I'm afraid you might hurt me."

For a moment he looks wounded, horrified even. Then his eyes narrow again. "You have a safe word, Anastasia," he huffs impatiently. "I don't intend to push you too far, but if I do, you can always use that. I _will_ stop if you use your safe word. That's what it's there for. But, you have to accept the punishment, that's how this works."

He reaches out for me again, a determined look on his face, and I take a step back.

"Red," I say.

"_What?"_

"Red," I repeat. It's almost a whisper, my mouth is incredibly dry. Part of me is in shock that I'm actually doing this.

"You… You can't do that!" he sputters. Then he grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around. My heart is in my throat, I'm afraid he's going to spank me anyway.

"I want you, and I want you now," he growls as he pulls up the back of my dress. "If you're not going to let me spank you— which you deserve— I'm going to fuck you over the back this couch. Right now and quickly. For my pleasure, not yours."

He rips my panties from me roughly and bends me over the back of one of the couches. His hand is suddenly cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan.

"Tell me what's mine," he orders aggressively.

"I'm yours," I breathe as my desire, hot and heavy, surges through my bloodstream, affecting everything. My nerve endings, my breathing. My heart is pounding, trying to leave my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears.

"Is this mine?" he growls, still pumping his finger inside of me. "Say it," he commands, daring me to challenge him. "Tell me this sweet little pussy is all mine… nobody else's. I want to hear you say the words."

"Yours," I whisper.

"Not good enough! Say the words, Anastasia."

Oh god, I can't believe he's going to make me say _that_ out loud.

"M-my pussy is yours," I stammer, barely above a whisper. "All yours." I am beyond embarrassed, but I also feel a spike of desire coursing through me. He's being such an animal. It's frightening but also exhilarating.

"You're goddamned right!" he utters through gritted teeth. "Everything about you is mine, Ana. You. Are. Mine."

I barely register the sound of ripping foil before he is buried fully inside me with one hard thrust. I groan loudly, reveling in the feeling of his complete possession. It is so primal, so intense.

"Don't you dare come," he warns as he thrusts quickly in and out of me, each word a grunt. "I _will_ spank you if you come. This is for me, not you."

I am still not sure how I would stop myself. As I feel my orgasm building, I experience a brief moment of desperation, but am saved when he abruptly rams into me and stills as he comes with a loud, guttural groan. I am both relieved and incredibly frustrated. My body is screaming for release and I am literally aching for his touch.

"Don't touch yourself," he orders as he abruptly pulls out of me. "I want you frustrated. That's what you do to me by denying me what's mine… and by attracting every snot-nosed boy in two states," he adds with even more venom.

Uh oh, he is still angry. But it's not my fault. I don't encourage Jose. Christian should know that.

I straighten myself up and pull down my dress, trying to smooth the fabric as best I can. Once he's done up his fly, I notice that Christian scoops up the tattered remains of my panties and stuffs them into his pocket. After that he takes a few deep breaths, then turns a gaze on me that actually holds a note of worry.

"Do you want that boy, Ana?" he asks with a sigh, sounding a bit defeated and kind of sad.

I crinkle my brow at him. _Is he serious about this_?

"No! Of course I don't. I've told you that…. You've seen the proof with your own eyes."

"So, you don't want the hearts and flowers?"

The word 'flowers' holds an incredible amount of bitterness, and I realize that's a large part of what is making him so angry. It had to be stupid flowers! He hates flowers for some reason.

_Maybe he's allergic_, my subconscious remarks in a snotty tone. In a sense, I actually agree with her this time. He is allergic to flowers – metaphorically, at least.

"No, Christian, I don't… _not from Jose," _I add softly.

"You want that from me?" He looks scared, panicked almost. It makes no sense.

"I wouldn't mind it," I admit.

He's pacing now, running his hands through his hair. "Ana… I… I don't know how to do that," he states in frustration. "I've told you that. I'm giving you everything I have… more than I've ever given anyone else." He waves his hand about the room as if to illustrate something. "This is all I know."

_More than anyone?_

"I'm only being honest, Christian. You said you wanted me to be honest." My voice is soft, I can tell he is on edge and I must tread carefully.

"I do," he mutters with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. For a brief second, I think this conversation is going somewhere and then he says, "We better get back to the house" as he holds out a hand to me. I simply follow, too dazed and overwhelmed to push it further. Besides, I feel like I've scored a victory of sorts. I stood up to him and he didn't spank me, that has to count for something.

XXXXXX

Back in the house, Kate and Elliot are in the process of making their farewells to Grace and Mr. Grey.

Kate hugs me hard. "I need to speak to you about antagonizing Christian," I hiss quietly in her ear as she embraces me.

"He needs antagonizing; then you can see what he's really like. Be careful, Ana— he's so jealous," she whispers. "See you later."

I KNOW WHAT HE'S REALLY LIKE— YOU DON'T! I scream at her in my head. I'm fully aware that her actions come from a good place, but sometimes she just oversteps boundaries, and right now she's so far over that she's in the neighboring state. I scowl at her, and she pokes her tongue out at me, making me smile unwillingly. Playful Kate is novel; must be Elliot's influence.

They head toward the doorway and we walk with them. That's when the nuclear bomb hits.

A woman is standing in the doorway holding a handful of paperwork of some sort. She is a woman I have definitely seen before.

"Elena," Grace gasps, sounding surprised. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

Grace reaches out to hug her and Elena kisses her on both cheeks. They know each other well, obviously.

"I'm so sorry darling," Elena says sweetly. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was in the neighborhood and I decided it was a good time to drop off these papers for the upcoming charity auction. Besides, I was hoping to catch Mia. I hear she's back from France..."

The conversation continues, but I don't hear any of it. I feel like I am going to pass out. The world around me seems almost unreal.

_A family friend… gorgeous… older than Christian… _

I steal a look at Christian and note that he looks quite uncomfortable at the moment and definitely surprised. That's when I know for sure. This woman is Mrs. Robinson.

_Oh god. _How could he? I can't believe he did this to me. I can't believe he let that thing put its hands on me. I can't breathe…


	10. Chapter 10

I am fairly sure that Mrs. Robinson doesn't notice me at first, because when our eyes meet, she looks almost as shocked as I feel. She recovers quickly, however, and gives me a broad, friendly smile.

"_Anastasia,_ what a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you here. How are you?_"_

I blink a few times, still in complete shock. I hear myself mutter an automatic, "I'm fine, and you?" It is strange how manners become so ingrained and can pop-up in the most bizarre situations. By all rights, I should be telling her where to go.

Christian is looking between us in confusion and he looks a bit worried. He should be worried. I guess he never thought his worlds would collide like this.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she says in a soft, polite voice.

Elena briefly gives Christian a puzzled look, but then steps forward and greets him with the same friendly smile.

Then she touches him!

She actually places her hands on his upper arms and leans forward to kiss his cheeks. And he allows it! He lets that thing touch him, but not me? I really think I am going to be sick.

Christian finally finds his voice. "You two know each other?" he asks _her._

"We met yesterday when she came to Esclava. She's a lovely girl," she gushes with that ridiculous fake smile still plastered on her face.

I want to scratch her eyes out, but I can't move. This situation is so fucked-up that I think part of my brain has shut down for its own protection. _Holy fucking fuck!_

Christian actually looks a bit surprised, but I'm not sure why. He obviously knew I'd meet her when he sent me to that salon. He is King of the Control Freak Stalkers for God's sake. He probably has the birth certificates and social security numbers of everyone who works there.

"Ana, dear, you look very pale," Grace says with concern. She leaves Elena's side and presses a hand against my forehead. She is such a nice lady. I know I can't create a scene in her home. It isn't her fault her son is such an ass.

She leads me back into the living room by the elbow and sits me down on the couch. She leaves, saying she is going to pour me a glass of water. Kate immediately replaces her at my side.

"Ana, my God! You look awful. Are you okay?" she asks anxiously.

I can just see her wheels turning. Kate will never let this go. What am I going to tell her? This is so humiliating! I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I am certain it is very unconvincing. I open my mouth to say… _I don't know what_, but Christian rather rudely pushes her aside before I can. The look she shoots him is beyond venomous. He had better watch himself with her.

He kneels in front of me and places his hands on my knees, looking up at me with intense, searching eyes. I pull away. He looks hurt, but I don't give a damn. I don't want his hands on me right now.

"Anastasia, what is wrong with you? Are you ill? Tell me," he demands.

_Oh, he is in no position to be making demands._

"I don't feel well. I need to go home," I manage to utter through my teeth.

He still looks utterly puzzled and lost. It's infuriating. Nobody could be that dense.

"Of course," he agrees, running a hand through his hair. He's frazzled, but obviously relieved to have a task. "The car is out front. We'll head straight for Escala."

I allow him to draw me up from the couch and escort me out, though I remain stiff beside him. I just want to leave. I have to get away from here and away from that woman. But he's nuts if he thinks I'm going back to his place.

There is a flurry of activity around me as I'm led toward the door. Kate and the Grey family appear genuinely worried, and I try my best to reassure them that I just need to go home and lie down. I suggest I may have had too much wine.

_Great, now they think you're a drunk_.

I notice that Grace keeps glancing at Mrs. Robinson – who stands to the side, seemingly unsure what to do with herself. Christian's mother has a very odd, curious expression on her face whenever she looks at her. Does she suspect? Oh god, I hope not.

I have never been more humiliated and demoralized in my entire life. I am such an idiot! I'd almost tricked myself into believing that I was the girlfriend tonight, but it was all just a charade - an illusion that was quickly torn to shreds in the harsh light of reality. I'm so thankful for the numbness and the anger, otherwise I'd be bawling a like a child in front of all these people.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I am finally ensconced behind the tinted windows of the Audi. Christian is watching me like a hawk, of course.

"Take me home, please, Taylor," I say, keeping my eyes forward, so I don't have to look at Christian.

"Yes, Miss Steele," he says as he begins to back the car out of the driveway. As usual, he sounds unruffled and utterly professional.

"Take us to Escala," Christian says with authority, obviously intending to override my request.

"No," I say firmly, still facing forward. "I need to go home. I have interviews tomorrow."

Taylor doesn't say anything. I am sure he's waiting for the verdict from his boss.

"Your things are still at my place," Christian argues. "We at least need to go and get them first." His tone is scolding, like I'm being an unreasonable child.

"I don't care," I bite out.

"_Anastasia,"_ he growls low. It's a warning.

"I'll take you home, Miss Steele," Taylor says calmly before Christian can say anything else. "I will collect your things and bring them back to you."

I can practically hear Christian's jaw drop beside me. I doubt Taylor has ever defied him in this way. Even though I don't want him to get into trouble on my account, I have never been more grateful. That man has certainly earned my complete respect.

"Thank you, Taylor, but you don't have to. I have an extra toothbrush. I'll be fine. Please don't trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble ma'am," he assures me, still sounding calm and steady as if nothing unusual is going on here.

"What is the meaning of this?" Christian demands, clearly addressing me.

I am surprised he didn't choose to flip out on Taylor, but I'm sure that is coming. Right now, he's too busy being furious with me. What the hell is he thinking? Of course I'm angry and upset. I can't believe him.

"It's Sunday night," I snap back. "I believe I'm supposed to be home, _sir_." I am fairly certain that no one in the history of the universe has ever put more sarcasm into one tiny syllable.

He grabs my chin and turns my face toward his, narrowing his eyes at me. "Careful, Anastasia. I suggest you stop this nonsense. What is the matter with you?"

I grab him by the wrist and push his hand away from my face. "I don't want to talk about it right now," I spit, casting a glance toward the back of Taylor's head. "I believe I've exposed myself enough for one weekend."

Christian crinkles his brow in apparent confusion and gapes at me.

"Taylor, we're going to Miss Steele's place," he snaps.

"Yes, sir," he replies mildly, although he was already headed that way. I'm sure Christian just wanted to make it seem like he was in control. What a child!

It's after ten on a Sunday night and traffic is light for once. So, thankfully, the ride is not a long one, which is a good thing since the uncomfortable silence is deafening. I stare out my window, but can feel Christian's eyes on me the entire time. He is watching me cautiously like I'm some sort of unstable crazy person who is likely to turn into a raving maniac at any moment.

When Taylor pulls up to the curb in front of my place, I don't wait for him to get out and open the door for me. Instead, I give him a quick 'thank you' and remove myself from the Audi as fast as I possibly can. I hear Christian cursing from behind me. Like a flash he has exited the SUV and is dogging my heels.

Thank the merciful heavens I did think to stash my apartment keys in the overpriced, designer clutch bag I'm carrying. I honestly hadn't even considered that when I demanded to be brought home.

This is one of those times where my clumsiness and fumbling is even more unwelcome than usual. For some unknown reason, I always have tremendous trouble getting a key to turn in a damn lock, and since I'm so agitated, this time it is even worse.

"Anastasia," Christian says from close behind me.

He is using his Dom voice, demanding my attention. It is so unnerving. I do my best to ignore him as I struggle with the lock. With an impatient sigh, he pushes my hands to the side and easily opens the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," I say curtly, pushing past him. My hope is to get through the door and lock him out, but that is just wishful thinking. He's not letting me get away from him.

The place is dark and empty. I am both relieved and sorry that Kate isn't home. I suppose she is probably staying with Elliot tonight. I do sort of wish she was here, because hopefully that would keep Christian in line. I have a feeling we are about to officially have it out. I've barely made it inside the door before I am grabbed by the arm and spun around to face Mr. Overbearing.

"Anastasia, I demand you tell me what your problem is. Don't think I won't take you over my knee," he threatens. "In fact, that would probably be best. Maybe then you'll stop acting like a child and talk to me."

"Let go of me, Christian. Go home."

He stares at me for a beat like he doesn't comprehend what I'm saying. Finally he releases my arm and squares his shoulders, looming tall over me. Obviously he's attempting to intimidate me.

"I'd advise you to watch your tone, Ana," he says in a deadly calm voice. "I know this is about Elena showing up tonight, but I don't understand why you're so upset about it."

"Yes, running into Mrs. Robinson tonight was a little upsetting," I say sarcastically. "I can't believe you think I'm that stupid. You didn't think I'd figure out who she was?"

His gray eyes register surprise briefly before he narrows them on me once again. "Anastasia, I don't understand why you're behaving like this. I've already told you everything you need to know about Elena. Start talking now or I _will_ make good on my threat."

I laugh. It's the most inappropriate response ever, but I can't help myself. It just bubbles up out of nowhere. This situation is so bizarre.

"Go ahead," I manage to say through my hysterical giggles. "Your ex-mistress has already had her hands all over me; you may as well join the club. After all, it is Humiliate Ana Week!"

Great, here come the tears, I should have known they weren't far behind. Dammit!

"My God, Ana," Christian gasps. "Sit down and tell me what is going on here. I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you're okay."

I give up. This is the densest man on the face of the earth. He is obviously not going anywhere until I spell this all out for him in black and white. I wipe my eyes and take a deep, shaky breath trying to compose myself a little. I find I have trouble meeting his gaze though, so I stare down at my hands while I speak.

"Christian, remember when I told you I didn't like the body wrap."

"Yes, of course," he says carefully. I glance up and his eyes wide and cautious.

"I didn't like it because I felt violated. I thought it was just because I'm not used to be naked in front of a stranger, but now I know… I WAS violated," I declare, forcing the words out through a fresh round of sobbing. "I can't believe you let her put her hands on me. She's a sexual predator, Christian! The woman should be behind bars."

A myriad of emotions cross his features and he just stands there speechless for a moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is much gentler than it was a moment ago.

"Ana, I'm sorry," he breathes. "I promise I didn't know she would be there. She is normally always in the salon branch across town."

"But you knew she worked for that company?" I prompt. I know the answer already, but I want him to admit it.

"Of course I know," he says a bit incredulously. "We own the chain together, but I promise I didn't intend for her to be there yesterday."

"She knew who I was, Christian. She didn't mention you, but _I know_ she knew. Don't try to tell me she didn't," I dare him.

Now he looks uncomfortable and a bit ashamed. He should be ashamed.

"I've mentioned you to her," he admits sheepishly. "We're still friends," he adds off of my outraged expression. "She wanted to meet you, but I told her I didn't think it was a good idea. That's probably why she didn't mention me. I'm sure she was surprised to find you there yesterday. It was a just a coincidence, Ana."

"Oh yeah, because she's _sooo_ innocent," I say, choking off a sob.

He shakes his head at me. "I still don't understand why you're so upset and why you want to turn Elena into some sort of monster. She's not a predator, Ana," he scoffs. "She was just doing her job. I understand that it was uncomfortable for you, and I apologize for that, but you're simply making this into something it's not. You're being unreasonable."

There is a wiser, much calmer part of me that is not surprised by his reaction. Of course he doesn't see this for what it is. If he admitted that she violated me, then he'd have to admit that she did the same to him. He is in complete denial where she is concerned, and that is extremely sad. It's just too bad that the wiser, calmer part of me is being completely trumped by the part of me that is outraged, hurt, and furious.

"Get out, Christian," I demand, my voice rising hysterically. "Get out of here, now!"

A shocked and wounded expression crosses his features, but is quickly replaced by an impassive mask.

"No," he says calmly. "I told you I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure that you're okay. It's my job to see to your needs and I'm certainly not leaving you while you're in this state."

The man is impossible! I slump onto the couch, utterly exhausted. I can't argue with him anymore. He's worn me out.

Christian sits down beside me and pulls me into his arms. He is suddenly sweet and tender, holding me, rocking me back and forth as he presses his lips against my temple and tries to soothe me. It makes me cry even harder.

I do believe that he didn't expect Elena to be at the salon yesterday. He didn't deliberately intend to offer me up for her perverted pleasure. But he just doesn't get it.

After a long while, my sobs taper off and I lie against his chest with my eyes closed. He strokes my hair and continues to hold me, neither of us saying anything.

"I'll step out and tell Taylor he can go," he says eventually. "He can pick me up in the morning."

Oh no. More than ever, I need time alone to think. I sit up and look at him. He really does appear concerned and, if I let myself, I could easily get lost in him. I just want him to make love to me and sleep in his arms. I feel the pull between us. I am going to give in.

Then his phone rings and the spell is broken.

When he checks the display, I know who it is from the guilty frown on his face. It's her – Mrs. Robinson. He quickly punches the 'ignore' button and shoves the phone back in his pocket, but it's too late. I've found my resolve.

"Christian, I'd rather you didn't stay tonight," I state simply. "I need some time."

He draws his brows together and considers me for a moment. "What do you mean?" he asks cautiously.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to stand my ground. "I mean that it's nearly Monday morning. I've spent the weekend with you, now I need the week to myself. I have interviews. I need to concentrate on that."

"And the contract? Does it stand?" he asks in a carefully neutral tone.

I sigh. I can't do contract negotiations with him right now. Why is he so obsessed with that stupid contract?

"The contract stands." _For now_, I add to myself. "The week is supposed to be mine, Christian. I'm just attempting to follow the terms."

He's angry. I can tell by the way his eyes darken. It occurs to me that I'm the only one who's expected to follow the contract. He, on the other hand, is supposed to always get his way. And I… well obviously, I am supposed to just submit_._

"No, Anastasia, you shouldn't be alone right now." His Dom voice is back.

"Please, Christian," I say, willing myself to look him straight in the eye, even though he is beyond intimidating when he's like this. "I need my time. I'll see you Friday evening," I add, hoping to appease him.

For a moment, I think he's going to refuse. He looks so angry and hard. I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, and when he opens them, his features are carefully controlled.

"As you wish, Miss Steele," he says as he rises from the couch. "Since it is so late, I'll have Taylor drop your things off in the morning. What time are your interviews?" He is being very formal now.

"Not until two."

"And you're still not telling me where, I suppose."

_Ooh, he sounds bitter about that._

"No, Christian, I'm not. I need to do this on my own," I say calmly. I can't believe I sound so brave, because inside I'm quaking like a leaf.

He stands frozen, almost like he can't quite decide what to do with himself, and then suddenly he shakes his head and gives me a tight smile.

"I'll see myself out," he says. "I'll expect you to respond to my calls or emails in the event I need to contact you during the week."

"I will," I assure him, feeling incredibly relieved that he isn't continuing to insist on staying. But, if I weren't so exhausted, I think I would roll my eyes. He absolutely has to get the last word in.

"I'm glad you're so agreeable," he responds sarcastically. "I'll expect you promptly at six on Friday."

He continues to stand there. Maybe he isn't leaving, after all. I stand and go to him. I grab him by the biceps, the same way Mrs. Robinson did. If she can do it, so can I. He looks worried for a moment, but allows it.

"Goodnight, Christian," I say softly, then stand on my toes to press a kiss against his lips.

Suddenly, I'm crushed in his arms and he's kissing me back passionately. He seems to be pouring all of his emotions into it, and I give as good as I'm getting and return the kiss with equal fervor. I don't know what is going to happen between us. Right now, I can't even entertain the idea of losing him. But I know I must think hard over the next few days.

When he finally pulls away his expression is once again guarded.

"Goodnight, Ana," he says rather coolly as he turns to go. He pauses in the doorway and looks back at me. I brace for another argument, but he simply gives the order, "lock the door behind me," and then he is gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Once the door closes behind Christian – and I lock it, of course – I collapse back onto the couch. Thank God my interviews don't start until 2pm tomorrow, because I don't see myself having an easy time getting to sleep tonight. My head is spinning far too quickly for that.

_What is up with that man?_ I just don't get him. He wants me to be his sub, he wants me to act like myself, he wants to follow the contract to the letter until it suits him not to do so, and then he wants to take me to his parents and pretend I'm his girlfriend…

_I'm not sure that's just pretend,_ my inner goddess says. I really do wonder about her blind optimism at times.

As if things aren't complicated enough, the front door opens and in strolls Kate. Ugh! I can't deal with The Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition right now. She's going to be like a dog with a bone.

After tossing a wave and a smile behind her – to Elliot, I suppose – she shuts and locks the door then turns on me with her arms crossed. _Wonderful._

"You look like crap, Steele," she says bluntly. "No more run around - What has that rich, uptight bastard done now?"

"I thought you were staying with Elliot tonight?" I ask, thinking I should at least take a stab at deflecting her question.

She shakes her head. "Nope, I still need to finish packing for my flight to Barbados tomorrow… and, more importantly, I wanted to see you before I left. Spill it, Ana. I'm not going anywhere until you do. Why did you freak when Desperate Housewives Barbie showed up tonight?"

Crap! I wonder if she realizes that she sounds way too much like Christian with her demands. But I do have to smile at her description of Mrs. Robinson.

"It wasn't her," I lie. I feel bad about it, but there's nothing I can tell her that won't totally blow my NDA out of the water. I opt for the essence of the truth instead. "It's Christian. I'm just so confused, Kate." My voice is embarrassingly whiny.

"Confused about what? Christian – _obviously_ - but you'll have to be more specific."

She comes and sits close beside me on the couch and places a hand over mine. She's frowning and she looks worried. Her expression reminds me a lot of Mom. _Oh no, Kate! Don't do this._ I really don't need to cry again.

"Christian is so complicated. I don't know what he wants from me. He sends so many mixed signals." Once again, I sound whiny, but I'm proud that I manage not to spill any tears.

"He's sending mixed signals because he's head-over-heels for you and that just doesn't jive with his control freak nature. This is your first go-around, so I'll clue you in on the big secret – love is the most out-of-control feeling in the world. The man simply can't deal. It's really not that complicated."

Oh, to be Kate. Everything is so black and white for her. She really doesn't understand… and I can't explain.

"He's not head-over-heels for me, Kate," I scoff. "That's just ridiculous."

"Why is that ridiculous?! Because he's obscenely rich, insanely good-looking, or both?"

I shrug and look into Kate's disapproving face. "Both, I guess."

"_Please._ It's just money, Ana. It doesn't make you more-than-human. And you're just as gorgeous as he is! How many times do I have to tell you that? Christian can't take his eyes off of you, even Elliot mentioned it. You know you're the first girl he's ever brought home, don't you? They all thought he was secretly gay. Why can't you see that you're something special to him?"

_Because I signed a standard contract_, I want to scream. I have a serial number for God's sake! I'm number sixteen.

"I want to believe that, Kate, but he…" _Crap, what can I say here?_ I can't divulge too much. "He's very controlled," I finally settle on saying. "He likes everything to be a certain way and he sets all these… ground rules… I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act."

"Who cares about his stupid ground rules," Kate snaps, rolling her eyes.

_That's easy for her to say, she won't get spanked for rolling her eyes. _

"I'll tell you how you're supposed to act, Ana. You're supposed to act any damn way you please. You're a grown woman, a college graduate, and a total babe. Quit tying yourself in knots trying to please this asshole. Make him try and please you for once. Is he really worth all this drama?"

Wow, Kate does not like Christian at all. She doesn't even try to hide it.

"I think I'm in love with him," I admit softly. In a way, it's the first time I've admitted it to myself. It's a frightening realization, but Kate just rolls her eyes again in response to my grand revelation.

"No shit," she says dryly. "And he's in love with you. Problem is, he's an ass and you're too insecure. Stop letting him call all the shots, Steele!"

"But that's what he wants. _That's what he needs_."

"_Pfft_… he doesn't know what he wants. Men are hopeless like that. Besides, what about what you want? Isn't that important too?"

"I guess," I say. Kate doesn't look happy. "Okay – _yes_ - you're right," I concede. "It's important. It's just…." I pause. I really want to ask her advice about the coming week, but I'm not sure how to phrase it. I can't give away many details.

"Just - what?" Kate prompts.

"Well… Christian said he only wanted to see me on weekends. Nothing Sunday night through Friday evening. It's one of his ground rules." Kate looks disgusted, but she thankfully stays quiet and lets me continue. "If he's really as in to me as you say he is… don't you think he'll want to see me during the week? And if he does, maybe I shouldn't let him? I mean… not unless he…" _Says to hell with the contract, agrees to more, stops trying to bully me…_ But I finally settle on, "plays fair."

"Sounds like a no-brainer," Kate replies. "And I can pretty much guarantee he's going to want to see you this week. The man won't let you out of his sight. I don't see him going an entire week without you. But you – you're the one who'll have to stay strong."

"He wanted to stay here tonight… and I told him _no_."

"Way to go, Ana!" Kate beams proudly. "I bet that set him back on his designer heels."

"Actually, I think it did," I say with a small smile. "He seemed shocked."

"I'm sure he was. Christian's probably used to being able to buy anything and everything he wants. He needs to know you're not for sale. Let him stew in not getting his way for a little bit. It won't kill him, and you just might be surprised."

"I'll try," I promise her.

"Good, because otherwise I'm going to cut off his balls and mount them above the fireplace." Kate is smiling when she says it, but I do have to wonder. "I better go and pack a few things before I get too tired," she announces, rising from her seat and pointing a finger at me. "You need to go to bed. You've got interviews tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am," I say, giving her a salute. There is more than a little irony in my tone. _If she only knew._

* * *

After my talk with Kate I felt much better. She really has a way of putting things into perspective. To my surprise, I only toss-and-turn for about an hour before falling asleep. So, I am well-rested for my interviews.

I borrow another one of Kate's dresses – a black pinafore, over a white blouse. And I'm wearing my own black pumps, although I did consider wearing the designer ones Christian bought me. But no, it's a weekday and I don't have to wear his 'uniform'. I think I look professional enough. Even my hair is feeling interview-y. So far, my wayward tendrils have stayed-put in the tight bun I'm wearing. If that can happen, I suppose anything is possible.

Once it's all over and done with, I actually feel confident that I made a good impression at both places, but am keeping my fingers crossed that SIP, in particular, gives me a call. I felt more comfortable there. The casual, bohemian atmosphere made it seem like a better fit for me. Although, in all honesty, I'm in no position to be too picky and will take either job if offered. My cash reserves aren't going to hold up for more than a few weeks, and I don't want to borrow money from Mom or Ray. I want to make it on my own.

This morning, Taylor dropped off my laptop and overnight bag promptly at 10A.M. on the nose. He was his usual taciturn self. You'd never know Christian and I treated him to a dramatic scene last night. I do wonder what it would take to ruffle that man's feathers. Christian must pay him well.

I forced myself not to fire up the mean machine right then and check my email messages. I decided that was best for several reasons. For one thing, if there was no message from Christian - or one that made me angry – it would interfere with my interview mindset. Then, there is my newfound determination to set some boundaries with Mr. Control Freak. Our email exchanges are hard to resist, and I didn't want to get too caught up.

By the time I get home, however, I can no longer resist. I did give him my word that I'd reply to his messages, didn't I?

I realize that I am holding my breath as I open up my email app.

There are two messages from Christian and I'm so relieved.

The most recent one reads.

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Pins and Needles  
Date: May 30 2011 18:03  
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele,

I hope you made it to and from your interviews safely, but I cannot say for sure, as I haven't heard back from you. Are you alive and well?! Inquiring minds need to know.

While I am certain you made a good impression, I would like to hear the details. I suppose you are still refusing to share the names of the specific publishing houses!?

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

Hmm… a bit snippy and impatient with his abuse of the interrobang, but I've heard worse from him. Wonder what the first email said?

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Good Morning and Best Wishes  
Date: May 30 2011 8:40  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

I wanted to wish you good luck on your interviews today. Although I am sure you will do well.

I have put a great deal of thought into the events of yesterday. I would be lying if I said I was not concerned about how we left things last night. I am sorry about the situation with Elena. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are not placed in such a position again. It is very unsettling to hear that you felt violated. I assure you that I _never_ want you to feel that way.

Let me know how your interviews go.

P.S. I have attached a photo of the two of us that appeared in the Society Pages of The Seattle Sun Times yesterday. I was distracted from reading the Sunday paper due to the presence of a certain beautiful young woman, else I would have noticed this sooner. Thought you might like to see her for yourself.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I click on the attachment. It is the photo of us that was taken at my graduation. The caption reads '_Christian Grey and friend.'_ He looks impossibly handsome and I look far from beautiful. Stunned would be a more apt description. Friend, huh?

_Did you expect it to say sub?_

Yeah, I suppose that would be awkward. At least he's sorry about Elena - although he didn't specify exactly what he's sorry about. But he did say he was concerned about how I feel. That's something. I suppose I should take a minute to reply to his latest email

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: Re: Pins and Needles  
Date: May 30 2011 18:57  
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey,

You can rest assured that I am safe and sound. I feel like my interviews went well, thank you for asking. And NO! I won't be telling you the names of the publishing houses - Not until I'm certain it's too late for you to wield any undue influence over my potential employers.

I am glad to know that you don't wish for me to feel violated, although I'm still not sure you fully understand my position. I do not like that woman! I think she's a predator and a criminal, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.

Ana

* * *

I decide to distract myself from watching my inbox by going to Kate's room and giving her a final farewell before Elliot comes to pick her up for their trip to the airport. I will miss her. It will be hard to stay strong without her pep talks.

I am away for about forty-five minutes while I chat first with Kate, and then briefly with Elliot when he drops by. The two of them can't keep their hands off one another, as usual. I'm sure Barbados will never be the same.

I walk them out to the car and Kate embraces me tightly before getting in. "Don't forget about what you want," she whispers into my ear.

It is something to think about. Actually it is the reason why I need this week to myself. However, once she's gone, I'm unable to stand the suspense any longer, so I go to check the machine. Sure enough, there is a response from Christian, and it came in barely five minutes after my reply.

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Glad to Hear It… And Relieved  
Date: May 30 2011 19:03  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

First of all, I am delighted to hear that you are safe and sound. Believe it or not, I do worry when you fail to respond promptly. I am also glad to hear that your interviews went well.

I see that you are keeping up your tradition of being uncharacteristically frank in your email correspondence. Once again, I have the feeling that this is the only time you are truly honest with me.

I do not see Elena in the light you are painting her, although I assure you that I will do my best to make sure you never cross paths with her again. I don't wish for you to be upset, I prefer to see you smile. I'm not sure what else you want from me on that subject.

P.S. I would never - and have never - used undue influence. I am shocked and offended that you would accuse me of having such unseemly intentions.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I quickly type out my reply and send it.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: You MUST Be Joking  
Date: May 30 2011 19:50  
To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey,

I am tired of arguing with you about Mrs. Robinson as well. I am beginning to wonder if you and I will ever see eye-to-eye where she is concerned. And, thank you, I certainly would appreciate it if you did not subject me to her presence in the future. It would probably be in her best interest as well as mine, otherwise I may be forced to scratch her eyes out.

P.S. Yes, you have - and do - use undue influence. I hope you are joking about that, otherwise I will have to assume that you are highly delusional.

Ana

* * *

Once again, his response is almost instantaneous. Surely he's not sitting around waiting for my emails. Of course… that is exactly what I'm doing here.

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Feisty!  
Date: May 30 2011 19:54  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

I will keep your homicidal tendencies in mind. I would hate it if I was only allowed to see you during visiting hours at the prison. Although the idea of you behind bars and possibly in shackles is rather intriguing…

P.S. Of course I'm not joking! I'm appalled at your suggestion.

Christian Grey  
Delusional CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

Delusional CEO, huh? He's being fun. Why are things so much easier by email?

Just one more response, then I'm signing off. It's too easy to forget our very real troubles when we have such interesting email exchanges.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: Justifiable Homicide  
Date: May 30 2011 19:58  
To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey,

I assure you, no court on earth would ever convict me for killing Mrs. Robinson, so don't get too attached to your fantasy of me behind bars.

Although I love sparring with you via email, I really must go and see to the unpacking that was left unfinished whilst I was being ravished over the weekend. Not that I'm complaining ;)

Goodnight.

Ana

* * *

I slam the laptop closed quickly, so I'm not tempted by any further emails. I really do need to put a few finishing touches on my new room. My books still haven't been unpacked and placed in my small bookcase, which reminds me – I have three very expensive first editions to add to the collection. Christian seems to have won that battle. Perhaps looking at them will remind me that I need to stay strong.

In the bottom of the box, I find a copy of THE contract. I sit frozen, holding it in my hand for a moment. It's just paper.

_Extremely expensive paper, handmade by twelfth generation paper artisans, no doubt - _my subconscious snarks.

Sadly, she probably has a point. But high grade or not, it weighs practically nothing… So, why do I constantly feel the weight of it on my shoulders? I remember what Kate said, she has a way of cutting through the bullshit. She asked me if he was 'worth all this drama?' _Is he?_

Well… I love him. I have never been in love and I am almost twenty-two years old. I know it is not something that comes around every day. What if this is the one and only time for me? I feel like I should give it my all.

Perhaps I can work within the contract? Find a way to make it for me? I am a smart girl. I did graduate with a 4.0. How hard can it be?

I grab a yellow highlighter from the WSU cup that holds my pens and sit cross-legged on the bed with the contract in hand. I feel optimistic. Here goes…

* * *

So much for optimism, now I am truly depressed. Why did I sign this thing? What was I thinking? _Was I thinking?_

This is the MOST one-sided document in the history of the universe! I've only been able to find a precious few things worth highlighting, and I've found practically no leverage. He really did think this through. What a control freak.

I highlighted:

_12 The Submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant (" the Allotted Times"). Further allocated time can be mutually agreed on an ad hoc basis._

That clause gives me some power. It does specify 'mutually agreed' upon for 'further times'. But then there's this little gem:

_13 The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant subject only to the Submissive's rights under clauses 2– 5 and 8 above._

That is truly depressing. Unless he commits some egregious breach, supposedly I am to be granted release 'at the discretion of the Dominant'. WOW! He's even trying to limit my walking privileges, while he can 'dismiss the Submissive from service at any time for any reason.'

_You signed it, you idiot._

Very true, I did. No argument there. And while I know it's not legally binding, it is what binds us together. He told me once - this is the only type of relationship he's interested in. I can walk away at any time, but if I do… that's it.

I throw the offending document across the room, along with the highlighter. I won't cry again. I just won't. This is ridiculous! I have to make a decision and live with it. My heart and my head are duking it out once again, and I have the feeling that whoever wins – I will always lose.

Perhaps I should put some more distance between us? I'd love to see Mom, but there's no way I can afford to fly across the country on such short notice, and there's no way I'm driving. I don't have the time. Maybe I'll go spend a few days with Ray. It's been a while. I know I can't discuss this situation with him. NDA or no, he'd FREAK. I just couldn't do it. However, I could use his steady presence. It would certainly give me some breathing room to think. I'll call him in the morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: I am not a fan of trashing the original author/work when you are a fanfic author. I feel like if you feel inspired enough to write in that person's verse, then you should show some respect for them. However, I am changing a bit of canon due to a tiny nit pic. I'm sure it has to do with the fact that E. L. James is not familiar with travel in America, which is obviously not a sin. But here goes…

Normal people can't just up and fly clear across the country on a whim. We simply can't afford it. With a few exceptions, we have to book flights several weeks in advance to get a decent rate. If Ana had bought a same-day roundtrip ticket from Seattle to Savannah, she would have paid around $900 at best. I sincerely doubt she could afford that. So, she's going to her stepdad's instead. Plus, 'old high school friends' could provide some real possibilities for tormenting Christian ;)


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Shorter chapter this time, because I am extremely busy and not sure when I'll be able to update next. Unfortunately, work is kicking my tail this week, but I did want to get something out there for you guys even if it is a little shorter than my usual chapters.

I really appreciate those of you who have been so supportive. I'm VERY flattered that anyone would read my writing, as I'm not trained or a professional. So, thanks.

XXXXXXXX

My old bedroom is practically untouched and a little dusty from disuse. I decide that can be my task for today. I'll strip the bed, wash the sheets and comforter, and run a dusting cloth across the furniture. In fact, maybe I'll do that with the house in general. Dad could use a good spring cleaning, and I could use a nice mindless distraction.

Now I'm glad that Ray insisted on buying me all new bedroom furniture when I moved in with Kate. He said he wanted me to have a furnished bedroom when I came to visit, and it's nice to have a solid reminder of my roots - because right now I feel very far away from the girl who inhabited this room. The fact that Ray made most of this furniture makes it even more comforting. The furnishings are not designer and high end, but they are sturdy and they remind me that I'm loved, unconditionally. It's a feeling I realize I've missed of late. There are so many conditions that come with being Christian's, and what's worse - I'm not sure that he's capable of or even wants to give love.

I'm on my own for the rest of the day, since Ray is at work. He felt bad that he couldn't take the day off on such short notice, and said he'd take me out to eat tonight and try to get a day off later in the week. I assured him I was fine. Honestly, it's just nice to be in familiar surroundings. It makes me feel more grounded. Seattle is still unfamiliar territory, and my apartment is far too new to feel like home yet, especially with Kate gone. I need a place where I feel comfortable and at home, a place to think. The fact that I'm a hundred miles from the highly distracting object of my thoughts is definitely a bonus.

It's not quite noon yet, so I made it here in good time. Of course, I didn't exactly sleep-in this morning. Sleep was not my friend. I had a lot on my mind.

I still haven't told Christian that I'm here. I figured I'd send him an email later today. I have made a vow to only check my email once a day. I don't need to give Christian the impression that I spend all my free time waiting on word from him… even if that is uncomfortably close to the truth.

Admitting that I am in love with him was terrifying, but it also made some things clearer. I finally had to face the fact that I am risking severe emotional pain with this arrangement. That this is, in no way, a simple case of 'exploring my sensuality' – as the contract says it is. The stakes are much, much higher than that.

I've barely placed my bags down in my bedroom when my cell rings. I'm thinking it's probably Ray. I was supposed to call him when I got in. I'm a bit surprised when I look at the display and see that it's Christian, instead. That's odd, he rarely calls. He seems to prefer texts and emails.

"Hello," I answer neutrally, although I'm excited that he's calling me.

"You didn't tell me you were going to visit your stepfather," comes Christian's voice, which is deceptively calm. By this point in our odd arrangement, I know him well enough to realize that he's angry. What the hell is that about? And how does he know _exactly_ where I am? Thankfully, I realize that's a stupid question before my subconscious gets a chance to butt in with some smartass comment.

"It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment decision," I snap. _Why am I being attacked?_ "I was going to email you later and let you know, but guess that's not necessary since you clearly tracked my phone again."

Honestly, this is just ridiculous. Am I under constant surveillance?

"I didn't have to track your phone," he says smugly. "All of the cars in my fleet have a tracking device."

So, he doesn't even try to hide his epic stalking. The nerve of this man!

"I understood that the Audi was _my_ car, however I see that was a misunderstanding. Obviously, it's just another part of _your_ _fleet_. Unfortunately, some control freak hauled off the only vehicle that was mine, or else I'd have driven that!"

He's quiet for a moment. When he finally speaks it's in a carefully measured tone. "It is your car. I gave it to you. The tracking device is just a standard security measure. I need to know you're safe, Anastasia. It isn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?! Are you kidding me? I drove two hours away to see my dad. I didn't even leave the state for God's sake! Why would you feel the need to track me _for that?_ Do you have some sort of James Bond secret alarm that goes off whenever I start the engine? Because that's too much, Christian. I didn't sign on for that." I'm getting angrier by the second. How dare he stalk me and then act like I'm being unreasonable about it.

"Ana, I have to know you're safe. You may see that as strange, but I need to know these things. The answer is _no_, I don't have a secret alarm. I was concerned because you didn't email me back last night or this morning, so I checked up on your whereabouts. When I saw you were on the road, I didn't know where you might be going…" he trails off.

He actually does sound worried, although I'm not sure if he's worried that I was on the road, or worried that I may have been hightailing it to Alaska.

"I don't see why you didn't tell me," he adds, sounding rather petulant.

I take a deep breath. I'm really caught off guard and rattled by his reaction. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be. He is a proven stalker.

"Christian," I begin calmly. "I was going to send you an email later and let you know I was visiting with my dad for a few days. Honestly, I didn't think it was big news. I assumed you were busy with work, and you've made it clear that you want the weekdays to yourself. I'm off work, Kate's gone… it seemed like a good time for a visit. Once I find a job, it may be a while before I earn any vacation time."

"Well, it is big news, Anastasia. In the future, I'll expect you to clear any major travel plans with me first." His voice has regained its authoritarian tone.

"_Major travel plans?_ Are you saying I need your permission to go to hours away to see my dad!?" _Because no, just NO._

"You're my sub, Ana," he says as if it explains everything. He sounds incredibly flustered. "It goes with the territory; you're supposed to seek my guidance before making those kinds of decisions. I understand that you want to see your family, I'm not saying you shouldn't… _but it's the principal._ You must make sure I'm informed."

An awkward silence stretches across the line. I'm speechless, completely flabbergasted. He acts like I should know that I need his permission to see Dad, as if me asking him would be the most normal thing in the world. Well, maybe it is normal in his world, but certainly not in mine.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grey," I finally say through clenched teeth. "I didn't realize I was no longer allowed to have any original thoughts. Since you're not here to do it for me, I'm going to go flog myself. I'll be sure and let you know how that works out. _Goodbye, sir_."

"Ana, don't you-"

I don't catch the rest, since I hung up the phone on him before he could finish. Almost immediately, the phone rings and I hit 'ignore'. The distance must be making me brave, because right now there is NO WAY I'm giving in to him. I'm so irritated! I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm exhausted.

I call Ray to let him know I got in safe. Thank goodness he's too busy to pry about my brusque manner on the phone. As soon as I hang up with him, I immediately place my cell on silent mode.

_You sure you want to do that? Remember what happened last time._

Oh, shut up! Mr. Grey can stew in it. I have a task to complete, and I can't do it with my phone ringing off the hook. I just want to clean my dad's house. It's nice, simple, and straightforward. Three things that Christian Grey is not!

It doesn't take me long to realize that I'm working with limited supplies. Ray's house isn't exactly filthy. He's too much of an ex-military man for that. Everything is neat and in its place, but there is a fine layer of dust over most everything aside from the microwave, his favorite recliner, and his remote control. Problem is, I can't find a can of furniture polish anywhere. So, I resolve to go down to the store on the corner and buy one. I'm sure Christian will find that trip absolutely fascinating, since I know he's going to track me.

XXXXXXXX

I decide to go to the small grocery store nearby, because I also want to get some things to fix breakfast with in the morning. One look in the fridge told me that Ray hasn't had a home cooked meal in a while… just lots and lots of take out. It makes me feel sad for him.

I'm standing in the checkout trying to distract myself from thoughts of Christian by scanning the magazine covers. Apparently, Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt have gotten secretly remarried in Vegas, much to Angelina's despair. _Does anyone actually believe this crap?_

"Ana. _Earth to Ana._ Have you lost your hearing or are you just too cool for me now?"

My head snaps up. I know that voice. I turn around to see a tall guy with short brown hair, warm brown eyes, and dimples on his cheeks. Oh my God! It's Matt Carroll. We've known each other since elementary school and we had practically every single class together my senior year. I haven't seen him since graduation.

"Matt! My God, it's so good to see you," I exclaim. He immediately pulls me into a hug. Bet Fifty wouldn't like that one bit. But I've known this guy forever, he's practically family.

"Ana, wow! You look great. How long have you been in town?" Matt has a huge smile on his face. He's much cuter than I remembered him being. He's filled out quite a bit in the past few years. He used to be way too skinny for his tall frame. He's still no heartthrob by any means, but he's not bad either. Then again, it is unfair to compare any man to Christian.

I look down at my non-existent watch. "Almost two whole hours. I couldn't waste time, had to hit all the hot spots in town," I say sarcastically.

"This is _the_ place to be," he agrees with a nod. "So, what's up with you? You still in school?"

"Just graduated last week. Decided to come and see Dad. How about you? Still at UW Tacoma?"

"Yeah. Still got at least another year to go though." He shrugs sheepishly. "I changed my major mid-sophomore year. Decided being an architect was not for me. I'm actually going for a degree in English lit now. Thought I might like to teach. _Dad's pissed._"

My mouth drops open. I bet his dad is pissed. That man was all about Matt being an architect and he was one of the stricter parents. Wow, I bet that went over well.

"That's awesome!" I exclaim. "You're like me now! But, I'm hoping to be an editor. I'm afraid students would eat me alive."

Matt grins and winks one of his brown eyes at me. "You could do it. You just gotta be firm. Smack 'em with a ruler if they get out of line," he jokes.

I blush, remembering my recent adventures with a ruler. Of course that was a different sort of classroom. "Don't know about that," I say as I hand some cash to the girl behind the checkout counter and grab my bags. "Think I'll stick to editing, seems safer. It was great seeing you though, Matt. I'm really glad you're studying something you like now. I wish you the best of luck." I start to walk off, but he stops me by saying my name.

I turn around and he pauses and runs his hands through his short brown hair before stuffing them in his pockets. He seems nervous.

"So, you gonna be in town long?" he asks.

"Just a couple days."

"Well, uh… you wanna get together maybe? Hang out. For old time's sake?"

_Is he asking me out? _Whoa - this is awkward. I've never thought of him as anything but a friend and… well, there's Christian.

I bite my lip. "I'm sort of seeing someone," I say. _"Not that you were_…" I add hurriedly. Wow, I must sound presumptuous.

He smiles, but I think he's disappointed. "Jealous boyfriend, huh? I get it, don't blame him. But that doesn't mean you can't hang out with an old friend though, does it? I'll be on my best behavior, I promise." He crosses his heart. "I won't even take you to make-out point."

Matt is a nice guy, and he's _always_ on his best behavior as far as I know. It would be nice to catch up with old friends. Besides, his sister – Allison - who's not quite two years younger than us, knows literally everything about everybody. I'm sure he can fill me in on all the latest gossip and then some.

"Why don't you give me a call," I say. "I'm not sure what Dad has planned, but maybe we can get together and hang out."

"Great," he says, showing his dimples again. "What's your number?"

I briefly consider giving him my cell, but decide against it. I don't need any more problems with the stalker right now. I'll just give him dad's number instead. I tell myself I'm not hiding, I'm only being practical. Matt's just an old friend, but I know Christian would blow this way out of proportion.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry I haven't replied to reviews this go around. I was just so slammed that I'm surprised I was able to get out another chapter this week. I do appreciate them all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I've started my period - oh joy. Think I'll celebrate by taking my very first birth control pill.

_You should probably text Christian about that, _my subconscious suggests.

She's looking and sounding more snotty than usual. I'm sure it's a combination of cramps and overall irritation with Christian. But, the truth is, he probably would be thrilled to know - provided we were actually speaking to one another right now. He is all about me starting the pill. Actually, for once, I'm rather glad I caught the monthly curse myself. At least now I know for certain that I'm not pregnant. I didn't think I was, as Christian is extremely careful, but still - _that's all I need._

Once I get the groceries put away and sort out my little monthly issue, I give into temptation and check my email. Christian was awfully furious on the phone, which makes me doubly curious about what he may have written to me.

The latest one came in this morning at 8AM on the nose - how prompt of him. Although I am surprised there are no snippy emails sent after our extremely pleasant phone call. He must be very angry indeed if he's cutting off communication. My phone is still on silent mode, but the call log tells me he hasn't tried to contact me again after the call I ignored earlier.

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Tonight  
Date: May 31 2011 08:00  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

I assume you are probably still snoozing away after all the strenuous unpacking you did last night, but hope you will read this message when you do get up and around. I have made reservations for a private dining room at Il Tarrazzo at 7PM this evening. They have excellent Italian cuisine. I would be honored if you would accompany me. Please let me know. I will come and pick you up.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

He wants to have dinner with me tonight? Wow, I didn't expect that, especially so soon after the weekend - it is only Tuesday. Suspiciously, his offer sounds an awful lot like a date. A real date!

_Why did you have to leave town?_ My inner goddess whines. _Now you won't see him AND you're not speaking._

I'm ignoring her. This is a good thing…. _I hope_. Christian has to know that I won't tolerate having my every move stalked. He can control our fucking - because apparently I'm quite kinky too and happen to like that sort of thing. But, I have decided that he can't control everything else. I realize that I happen to NOT like that at all. It's suffocating. Maybe it's considered strange that I enjoy one and not the other? Once again, my lack of experience is working against me. But, regardless, that is how I feel.

I push past my disappointment at missing our date tonight and read the previous email.

* * *

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Infuriatingly Independent Women  
Date: May 30 2011 20:01  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

Might I remind you that you didn't have to do ANY of the unpacking yourself? That is precisely why I sent Taylor to help you on Friday. I really wish you would allow me to take care of these sorts of things for you. You're very self-sufficient, a trait which I find both admirable and incredibly frustrating at times.

For Taylor's sake, I'm going to assume that all of the heavy lifting has already been completed. I don't want you injuring yourself while you're there all alone. If there is anything strenuous that was left undone – leave it! This is not a request. I will send Taylor to sort it out tomorrow.

Goodnight, baby. I miss having you in my arms at night. Dream of me.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

Typical bossy Fifty.

He misses having me in his arms at night, huh? _Oh my_, that is interesting. I wonder if he just means the sex or if he means the sharing a bed part. I'm hoping both.

I think about calling him, but decide I can get my point across better in writing. He's very intimidating to talk to when he's angry. Plus, I'm still irritated with him.

I reply to his email from this morning.

* * *

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: Re: Tonight  
Date: May 31 2011 14:57  
To: Christian Grey

Christian,

I'm sorry I didn't read your email earlier. I would have loved to have gone to dinner with you tonight. It seems we are in agreement about one thing - I very much miss being in your arms at night.

That being said, your behavior earlier was highly uncalled for. You can't stalk me everywhere I go. It's unacceptable! I didn't leave the country, or even the state for that matter. _I went to see my dad._ That's a very normal thing for a person to do, and I can't accept the fact that I'm expected to ask permission to do it.

And if you are angry with me because I will not be there for dinner tonight, keep in mind – the contract led me to believe that you only wished to see me on weekends. I had no reason to think that you would want to see me during the week, which is precisely why I didn't tell you of my plans ahead of time.

I hope to talk to you when you've had a chance to stow your twitching palms, as I'm quite certain I haven't done anything to earn them.

Ana

* * *

I hit 'send' and then waste a bit of time reading the news on my homepage. After about ten minutes, I realize that Christian is apparently not in front of his computer, or else he's too angry with me to reply. I resist the urge to call him, shut my laptop down, and go to do what I set out to do in the first place – wash my bedclothes and give the house a good dusting.

I manage to get that wrapped up by the time Ray gets home at twenty till five. He's anxious to get going and go out to dinner. He likes to eat fairly early, plus it's baseball season. There is probably a can't-miss game on tonight. The man is nothing if not predictable.

Christian is still incommunicado, but I'm trying not to worry too much about it - _trying_ being the operative word. I need to focus on spending some time with Dad. It is what I came here for.

Montesano is a small city. There are only around 4,000 residents, so the dining choices are extremely limited in comparison to a place like Seattle. We go to Ray's old standby – The Beehive Restaurant. It's your basic all-American diner and the food is usually always good. I have a patty melt and fries and Ray orders the daily special, which happens to be meatloaf.

Our conversation has been about general topics so far. His recent fishing excursions, my job search – nothing too probing. And I'm glad for that, because I really don't know what to say on the subject of Christian. Of course, it's only a matter of time. I know he's curious, but I think he's been waiting for me to volunteer.

"So, Annie, you haven't said much about your fellow," Ray says as he finishes his last bite of meatloaf. "Things still going well between you two? I couldn't be happier to see you, but I gotta admit I'm a little surprised. It's usually kind of hard to tear yourself away from a new beau at this stage in the game. Believe it or not, I remember those days."

I'm pretty sure I flinch a little when he speaks. _Real subtle, Ana._ "We're good," I say. "I mean… well, he's just really busy and all during the week."

"Yeah, he's quite the businessman it seems. That's good," he remarks with an approving nod. "You need someone who can take care of you."

I smile my most patient smile. "Dad, I can take care of myself. I just graduated from college, remember?"

"I know, sweetheart, I'm not trying to step on your female independence. You're a smart, capable girl… but I want you to have the best. I don't want you to ever have to worry about not having enough money. You're my one and only baby girl, you have to cut an old man some slack."

"Thanks, Dad," I say, flushing a bit with embarrassment. I suppose I can't fault him for wanting the best for me.

"You're welcome, Annie. I just want to see you happy. You two are happy, right?" His intelligent brown eyes bore into mine for a moment, and I wonder if he suspects anything.

"We're working on it," I say. _Well, I'm working on it, anyway. The jury is still out on Christian._

"Relationships are tough," he agrees. "How about some desert?"

"I'd love a slice of that apple pie they have in the case," I announce, probably way too enthusiastically. I'm just incredibly relieved that Ray has gone back to a more neutral subject – that's a place where we'll both be more comfortable.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ray stops for a six pack on the way home and almost immediately settles himself in his recliner, remote in hand, ready and waiting for the game to start. I sit down to watch with him, although I have absolutely no interest in sports. I'm so uncoordinated myself that I think I must secretly resent those who aren't.

The home phone rings just as the first pitch is thrown out. Ray immediately grabs the receiver without even bothering to check the caller id first. I'm sure he wants whoever's calling to get it over with and quickly. I hold my breath, thinking it may be Christian. My phone is still on silent mode, but someone with his stalking creds should have no problem getting Ray's number, especially since it's listed.

"Yeah, sure. She's here," I hear him say. He smiles at me and holds the cordless receiver out. I return his grin, but inside my heart is beating a mile a minute. I have no idea what mood Christian will be in, but I suspect we're about to have words… again.

"Hello," I say cautiously as I place the phone against my ear.

"Hey Ana, it's Matt." _Oh, it's Matt. I totally forgot about that possibility._ "Thought you might like to get out and go bowling tonight," he continues. "You have to hit the other hot spot in town while you're here."

I take a moment before replying. Wow, I really don't need any more complications in my life right now. I am not attracted to Matt and I've told him I'm seeing someone, but Christian won't see it as just a friendly get together and I KNOW he'll find out. He always finds out about everything. Plus, I don't want to ditch Dad.

"Al and her roommate are going too," he adds, obviously sensing my hesitation. "_Come on_ - don't leave me to deal with two sorority sisters on my own. I need a friend of my own there for backup; those two are driving me nuts."

I laugh. His sister, Allison, is quite gregarious and I'm not at all surprised to hear she's in a sorority. She's one of the most extroverted people I've ever met, and that would be just her type of thing.

"I don't know," I finally say. "I hate to leave Dad on his own. I just got here."

Helpfully, Ray pipes up and assures me that I should run along and have some fun, and Matt happens to catch that across the line.

"See," he says. "Your dad's cool with it. _Please Ana._ I promise it's just a friend thing. I know you said you had something going on and… well… I just got out of something myself." He sounds sad as he says it, and I assume it must have been a bad breakup. "I'd really just like to catch up," he assures me. "It's been a long time and, like I said, I could use some backup. If I have to hear about the tri-Delt's Fall Rush one more time, I'm going to go postal. It won't be pretty."

"Okay," I relent, "if you put it that way. I would hate to see you spend the rest of your life in prison for killing your own sister."

"And her roommate," he emphasizes. "Double homicide, Ana. I'd never see the light of day again."

"Probably true," I agree. "What time are you guys going? I'll meet you there." _It's definitely much less likely to be mistaken for a date if I drive myself._

XXXXXXXXXX

Bowling is fun. I'm actually glad I came. Everything is nice, relaxed, and casual. It's a welcome change from all the drama of late. Matt is very much like I remembered him from high school and, true to his word, he keeps things friendly and light. Plus, as a bonus, now I know everything there is to know about practically everyone in town I've ever known or even heard of. Allison does not disappoint.

In no particular order, I now know: who is gay, who has kids, who's married, divorced, and shacked-up. Honestly, I don't know how she finds out this stuff; she doesn't even live here anymore. And I'd almost forgotten how funny Matt is. He always used to keep me cracked up in class. He's a super smart guy with a razor sharp wit, but his humor is also very self-deprecating. He always makes you feel like he's laughing with you, not at you. I realize I haven't laughed this hard in weeks.

Big bonus - I'm also not the worst bowler here! That may be a first. Allison's roommate Shondra is hilariously terrible and she knows it. In the event that the ball actually does make it all the way down the lane, it almost always ends up in the gutter. Ironically, she claims her Wii bowling scores are excellent. Guess that doesn't translate to the real world.

When I get up to bowl the eighth frame, I'm giggling at Shondra's latest disastrous two-handed roll attempt and obviously not paying attention – so _not_ a good idea when you're as clumsy as I am. Like an idiot, I step over the line as I go to release the ball. My foot slips on the waxed surface and the force of my arm swinging causes me to leave the ground entirely.

"Ana!" Matt exclaims. Thank God he rushes forward and manages to break my fall just in time. Otherwise, I would have ended up cracking the back of my head open on the floor. Now I'm sitting here in the middle of the bowling alley with the upper half of my body in Matt's lap. Everyone is staring, of course. I'm so embarrassed. The entire scene had to look like something out of a cartoon.

"Too bad we're playing in lane 5 instead of 6," he teases, "because your ball just made a perfect strike over in 6."

I shake my head and try to catch my breath as he helps me back up onto my feet. "Don't guess I get the points for that?" I ask jokingly.

I don't hear what Matt says in reply, because I'm mesmerized by the incredibly angry face of Christian Grey. OH. MY. GOD. What is he doing here?

He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me out of Matt's grasp and against his chest, and none too gently. "I've got this," he says to Matt. The ice in his voice could literally freeze someone to death.

Thankfully, Matt is smart enough to back up a step, but he looks concerned. "Is there a problem, man?" he asks. I can tell he's trying to square his shoulders and make himself appear more intimidating, but that's just not him. He's a nice, easygoing type of guy.

"Yes there is," Christian spits venomously. "You've got your fucking paws all over _my_ girlfriend. I consider that a problem."

Holy crap, he's mad. Wait - _girlfriend?_

He steadies me on my feet and looks me over a bit anxiously. He's apparently satisfied that I'm in one piece, so he starts to let me go and take a step toward Matt. Unfortunately, I don't have time to reflect on his stunning declaration right now. I have to gather my wits and find my voice before he tears into poor Matt.

"Christian!" I exclaim, placing myself between the two of them. "He was just making sure I didn't bust my head open. This is Matt, we went to school together. I've known him practically all my life." Christian's face is stormy and he doesn't even look at me. I think he's too busy concentrating on trying to set Matt on fire with the power of his mind. Maybe this isn't the best time for introductions.

"Christian!" I say again. I reach out and grab him by the arm. I hope that's okay, he has let me touch him there before and right now I don't have time to think. "Christian, look at me! He was just helping me. Did you want me to get a concussion?"

That seems to get his attention and he turns his gaze on me. His eyes are practically black with rage and I have to force myself to stand my ground and not take a step back from him. "Christian, please," I plead, "don't do this."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes as if he's concentrating deeply. When he opens them, he looks much less volatile, but he also looks very hurt and lost. It's almost painful to witness. I certainly didn't mean to hurt him.

"Christian, let's go talk about this," I say softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he says with a shrug. "I had to. You wouldn't answer my calls." He's still clearly angry, but he also looks a bit uncertain too. It's very un-Christian.

I can't believe he's here. Obviously, bowling is going to have to take a backseat.

"Uh… guys," I say, addressing Matt, Allison, and Shondra as a group. "I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to bow out. Sorry," I add with an apologetic shrug.

Allison and Shondra are clearly enraptured with what's going on, and obviously not unaffected by Christian's looks. You'd think this was a televised soap the way they are staring. Matt looks much less impressed, however. He's still standing there watching warily with his brows drawn together.

"Ana, can I talk to you for a second?" he asks me.

Christian immediately puts his arm around me, staking his claim, and turns his glare back on Matt. Oh please don't let this turn into a fight.

"Give me a second, Christian, please?" I plead with my eyes, hoping he'll be reasonable. _He's not_. This time he addresses Matt directly.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can say it in front of me." He keeps his arm protectively about my shoulders.

"Fine," Matt says. He looks and sounds a little nervous, but plows forward. "I just want Ana to know that she doesn't have to go anywhere with you or anybody else if she doesn't want to. She's a friend and a really nice girl. I'm not going to let you take her out of here against her will."

"Are you threatening me?" Christian asks in a low, scarily calm tone.

"Not really. I'm just stating the facts, and you just might be able to kick my ass, but if that's what it takes…"

_Holy fuck!_ All this male posturing is making me crazy.

"Matt, it's fine," I say quickly. "Seriously, it is. We're just going to go and talk. He's not forcing me."

"You sure?" he asks, looking directly at me and not at Christian.

"I'm sure," I reply. Thankfully, Christian is quiet beside me, but his hold on me hasn't loosened any. I do have to wonder if he actually would take me out of here by force if necessary. I'm afraid he just might.

Matt nods, but he's clearly far from convinced. "Okay, I'll check up on you later."

"That won't be necessary," Christian says coldly. "You don't have to be concerned about Anastasia. I take care of what's mine."

"I wasn't asking you," Matt replies almost as coolly. I can tell he's a nervous wreck though, poor guy. I hate that he's gotten caught up in this. He looks me in the eyes, searching for a clue. I try to smile and give him a nod.

"Thanks, Matt. I'll be fine," I assure him. "You don't have to worry." _I hope._

Christian and I start to walk out, but the two men continue to watch each other warily the whole way. Honestly, it reminds me of one of those nature shows where two male predators are having a stand-off over a mate. Men really haven't evolved much.

On the way out, Christian is ominously silent, but he keeps his arm looped around my shoulders. He's not letting me escape. I wish he'd just say something… anything. As soon as we get outside, he lets go and spins around to face me.

"What are you trying to do to me, Ana?" he asks in a low, but clearly angry voice.

"Christian, I'm not doing anything. I just went out bowling with some people I knew from school."

"Is that boy your ex?" he demands. He puts so much disdain into the word 'boy' that it's ridiculous.

"NO! He's not. He's just a friend. You know I don't have any exes."

"You seem to have an awful lot of male friends though. Has it ever occurred to you that they're all looking for the same thing?"

Oh! The nerve of him!

"That's right, they all just want to fuck me!" Thank God there's no one standing around outside, because I'm sure this would be quite a show. "There's no possible way anyone could just like me as a person. Is there? Ana's clearly only good for one thing, you should know!" I stomp away. I think I'm heading in the general direction of the car, but I'm not entirely sure. I'm so angry, I'm not sure what I'm doing.

I'm surprised that I'm able to get a few steps away before he follows. I think I stunned him. Good.

He grabs me by the arm, but I don't turn around to face him.

"I just worry that you'll be taken advantage of by all these oversexed boys. Ana, you know that's not how I think of you," he scolds. It's as if I'm just being a silly child and he's the reasonable one.

I whirl around, jerking free of his grip. "Is that so? How am I supposed to know that, Christian? What is it about our strange arrangement that would lead me to believe otherwise?"

Christian takes a deep breath and sets his features in the hard, carefully controlled expression I recognize from the playroom. He's going to play the Dom card on me.

"Get in my car, Anastasia," he orders.

Ooh he's intimidating. I have to control the quiver in my voice, but decide to go for blunt honesty. "No, Christian. I'm afraid to be alone with you."

You would think I just slapped him from the expression on his face. What does he expect when he acts like this? His voice is very quiet when he speaks.

"Do you really think I'm trying to get you alone so I can beat you senseless?" he asks, sounding both horrified and insulted.

"Well, are you?"

"No, Anastasia, I'm not." His voice is a harsh whisper. "I know you're new to all of this, but that isn't how it works. I'm not out to abduct and batter women against their will. That's not what I'm about. Please, I don't wish to talk about this in public." He holds out a hand to me, but I hesitate. "Ana, please," he whispers. "You have to trust me. I give you my word not to touch you without your consent."

I place my hand in his. He's right, I have to trust him… and I do. If I'm wrong about that, I suppose there's no time like the present to find out for sure.

He's clearly relieved that I've decided to go along and is actually rather gentlemanly as he leads me to his car by the hand. It takes me about two seconds to realize he's driving the R8. It stands out like a beacon amid all the pickup trucks and average sedans parked in the lot.

Christian is once again on his best behavior and politely heads for the passenger side door. When he opens it for me, I'm fairly sure my heart actually stops for a moment.

I simply can't be seeing what I think I'm seeing.

Lying there across the seat is a long white box, the type that florists put long stem roses in. I know this, because it's a lot like the one Jose gave me recently. But this one is decorated with a rather elaborate red ribbon.


	14. Chapter 14

"Why?" It's the first thing that pops out of my mouth. I don't turn around; I simply stand staring at the florist box, my mind going in a million different directions.

Christian is still behind me, holding the car door open. "You said you wanted this from me," he replies softly. "I'm supposed to look after your needs. We aim to please," he adds with a trace of humor, although I could almost swear there's a bit of nerves there as well.

_Christian Grey is nervous about giving a girl flowers?_ _No way._

I turn around and he is watching me with a carefully controlled expression on his face. He's not giving anything away. "Aren't you going to open them?" he asks.

I pick up the box and pull the red ribbon that ties it. There are more roses inside the box than Jose gave me. He gave me a dozen, so I'm guessing this is two. Christian is not to be outdone. Unlike the one's Jose gave me, these roses are a deep, rich red. They are also completely flawless. I am sure these are the most expensive roses money can buy.

"Red roses symbolize passion and desire," he says in the low, mesmerizing voice he always uses in the bedroom.

Perhaps I shouldn't be, considering the fact that Christian is so avowedly anti-flower, but I find myself a bit disappointed by that. _Passion and desire, huh?_ That's nothing new. Sure, it's packaged quite differently from the playroom, but it's still the same sentiment.

"Don't you like them?" he asks when I fail to say anything.

"They're beautiful," I say, still staring at the perfect blooms. They really do look like something out of a picture book. It's hard to believe they are actual real living things and not some perfect silk recreation.

"They're from the most exclusive florist in Seattle," he assures me. "I told them each one had better be flawless."

Of course he did. A small giggle escapes me; I think I may be cracking up. Obviously, I have hit some invisible emotional limit.

"Ana?" Christian gasps. He sounds both puzzled and disappointed. That makes two of us.

I look up at him. "So, does this mean you don't want to take me across your knee and make me sorry for committing my latest list of transgressions?"

His eyes darken as he stares back at me and he takes a step forward. "No, Anastasia, it does not. I very much long to do just that."

_Oh_. I swallow hard. He looks so menacing, but also sexy. Why is that?

"Get in the car, please, Ana. I just want to talk to you right now. I've given you my word."

I sit, holding the box in front of me. I have to know what he has to say.

"Seatbelt on, Miss Steele." Christian says before shutting the door. Despite the order, he sounds relieved.

The ride is quiet… too quiet. He doesn't say anything and I'm not sure what to say. In any event, I think the ball is in his court as far as explaining just what in the heck he's up to. But he remains silent, watching the road ahead.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask.

Christian frowns. In fact, he looks downright pouty. "There isn't much by the way of accommodations in this town. I booked a place in Aberdeen about ten miles from here. Not quite four stars, but it will have to be sufficient. I thought we could talk there."

I giggle. I can't help myself. "Sorry, Mr. Grey, but we don't exactly have need for the Heathman in these parts."

Christian scowls, but I'm pretty sure he's trying not to smile. "Am I funny to you, Miss Steele?"

"Yes. Sometimes, very."

"Glad I can amuse you. Although I doubt I'll ever do quite as good a job as your friend… Matt, is it?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Christian?" The way he says the word 'friend' rubs me the wrong way and he sounds so ridiculously bitter.

He takes his eyes off the road long enough to frown at me. "You know exactly what that means. I saw you with that boy, you seemed quite amused. I've never heard you laugh that much since I've known you. And you have quite the giggle, Ana. It's a wonderful sound, but you rarely seem to share it with me. I'm feeling a bit short changed."

He must have been watching us. Why am I not surprised? My voice is rather clipped as I reply.

"Matt is a funny guy, Christian. He makes _everyone _laugh like that, and I'd be shocked to hear that you consider yourself a comedian. You don't seem to have a lot of room for foolishness in your life. And _yes_ – he is just a friend. You know for a fact that I've never been anything _but _friends with any man besides you."

"But he wants to be more than friends, doesn't he?"

"I don't know, Christian," I sigh in exasperation. "He didn't say that and he didn't do anything out of line, if that's what you're asking. It was clearly established that this was a get together of old friends, not a date. I told him I was sort of seeing someone."

"Sort of?" He definitely sounds angry now.

"What am I supposed to say? I have an NDA! I don't know if I'm supposed to admit that I even know you. It's not exactly a traditional relationship. Actually, I was completely shocked when you told him I was your girlfriend."

I chanced a glance at Christian and his knuckles are white, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight.

"What do you think you are, Ana? I have to wonder if you aren't being deliberately obtuse. I introduced you to my mother, and then to my entire family... something I've never done. Now I've given you the stupid fucking flowers you're so obsessed with. What else-"

"_I'm obsessed with?!"_ I exclaim, cutting him off. "I think you're the one with all the flower issues, Christian._"_

"I don't appreciate you interrupting me," he growls. "It's very disrespectful."

For heaven's sake. This entire conversation is going nowhere in record time. I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. Somebody has to.

"So, I'm your girlfriend, not your sub. Is that what you're trying to say?" I ask in a more subdued tone.

"Why can't you be both?" he asks hopefully. "It's far more common than you think. I've never wanted to before, but many in the BDSM lifestyle have very traditional aspects to their relationships. There's no rule against it. And I never said you couldn't say you know me. Stop putting words in my mouth," he snaps irritably. Great, now we're back to cranky. "With my high profile, you know I can't afford to have someone leak the details of my lifestyle. But, if you want to tell the world that you're my girlfriend, by all means, Anastasia - rent a billboard!"

What a sarcastic ass! Still, part of me is thrilled that he considers me his girlfriend and is willing to share it with the world. Once again, it's a veritable smorgasbord of conflicting emotions.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are _the _most exhausting human being on planet earth, Mr. Grey?"

"I don't think I'm exhausting," he says, giving me an innocent shrug. Yeah, he knows that's crap.

"Trust me. You are, _very._ The world's most exhausting boyfriend," I add with a grin. I can't help it. I can't contain how happy it makes me feel to say that word out loud. I feel like a giddy teenager. Christian seems just as pleased, because he looks away from the road again and gives me his most brilliant, breathtaking smile.

"Well, Miss Steele - _my lovely girlfriend_ - if you remember, you agreed to see a personal trainer four days a week. That should improve your stamina and make me far less exhausting. Of course, you need to be in town to start your appointments."

And now we're back to rules and contracts. _Argh!_

"Christian, do you honestly expect me to ask your permission to visit my father?"

He doesn't answer me immediately as we've pulled into the parking lot of the Guesthouse Inn and Suites in Aberdeen. It looks like a nice place to me, but I can see immediately that it would never rise to Christian's standards. There's no valet parking for one thing, and it appears that Christian will have to carry his own bag.

"Let me get checked in, then we'll talk more," he says shortly. Once again, he's all business. Mr. Mercurial is in town.

I follow him into a decent sized lobby, where we're greeted by a middle aged woman who looks like her eyes might bug out of her head when she lays eyes on Christian. Here we go again.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asks, her voice a bit too high. He doesn't seem to notice her reaction, however.

"Yes, I'm Christian Grey," he says politely, but coolly. "I should have a room waiting for me. Should be a suite."

"Yes, sir," she gushes. "Someone called. Your room has been paid for." She pulls out a small stack of papers and places them in front of him along with a pen. "I just need to see a form of picture I.D. and if you'll put the make/model of your car right here on this form." She points with the tip of her pen. "Plus, I need you to initial here for your rate, and sign here… Then you'll be all set."

He looks a bit annoyed, I'm sure he's not used to this run-of-the-mill type of routine. But, he dutifully hands over his drivers' license, jots down the information about his car, and then initials and signs where indicated.

"Do you have room service?" he asks as she hands over the key card and explains where his room is located. I can tell he's doubtful.

"No, but there's some good local places that deliver," she says with a smile. "Brochures are in the room… Oh and continental breakfast is served down here from eight to ten, and there's vending and ice machines on every floor."

"Thank you." To his credit he smiles politely and nods. If he hadn't, I think I might have pinched him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The room is nice enough. It's clean and the furnishings are new, although they are nothing like those at the Heathman. There is a small living room area with a couch, desk, television and breakfast nook. A small kitchenette separates the living area from the bedroom. I have no doubt this is the most expensive room they have.

The moment we're inside, he tosses his bag on the couch and pulls me into his arms. The intense passion in his kiss threatens to overtake my senses. He backs me up against a wall and pins me there as he deepens the kiss. By the time he pulls away, my brain is scrambled.

"You're mine, Ana," he says, as he lifts my chin up so I'm looking him in the eye. "All mine. Only mine. Don't forget it."

I gape up at him, trying to gather my thoughts. I think I manage to nod. Just as he lowers his mouth to mine again, my subconscious screeches at me to get ahold of myself. For once, I appreciate her interference.

"Christian," I say breathlessly, turning my face to the side so he can't silence me with his lips. "You said we'd talk."

He's not easily deterred. He just switches to nibbling on my throat and sucking on my earlobe instead. "What do you want to talk about, Anastasia?" he asks in his most hypnotizing voice. "I'd like to talk about what I'd like to do to you right now."

"We need to talk about other things first," I manage to say firmly. I squeeze my eyes shut and try very hard not to let him draw me into his spell. "You never answered my question."

Christian groans and pulls away a bit. "You're missing the point," he says with a sigh. "Of course I would never forbid you to see your family. Is that really what you think of me?" He sounds hurt.

"I think you want me to ask permission," I say. I'm not going to feel guilty about this, dammit.

"Yes, Ana, I do. You're mine. I want you to remember that and extend me the courtesy of asking. It goes with the territory. But I want you to know that I would never deny you the opportunity to visit with your family. And if you were to ask me, I could make things much easier for you. I could have flown you here by helicopter, or I could have had your father brought to Seattle and arranged for some guided sightseeing for the two of you. If you'll only let me, I can give you the world. I want to give you the world, Ana. Nothing would make me happier."

"Christian, I don't want the world. I just want to be free to be myself. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"You _are_ free to be yourself!" He steps away and runs both hands through his hair, his classic sign of extreme exasperation. "I just want you to follow some simple rules. I want you to respect me as your Dom. It's not about me denying you the things you want. I want you to be happy, Anastasia, and I want _more_ with you. I do consider you my girlfriend, but you are still my sub too. I should have the control in this relationship. I need that control. It pleases me greatly, and as my sub you should want to please me."

"I do want to please you Christian," I assure him. "I'm just not sure how half the time."

"You have to trust me. That's the basis of a Dom/sub relationship. You just have to give me the chance to prove that I will give you the things you need, but you have to keep me informed. Instead, you defy me at every turn."

"And then you want to punish me," I state hesitantly. I'm almost afraid to remind him.

"Very much," he agrees. There is a fire in his eyes whenever this subject is brought up. I have no doubt that it excites him. It excites me a little too, to be honest, but it also scares the unholy crap out of me as well.

"Are you going to do that now?" I ask, my voice practically a whisper.

"Not at the moment," he says with a smirk. "I did give you my word that I would explain things the first time around and punish the second. You can trust me to take my word seriously. So, here's your explanation, Miss Steele. If you ever again leave the city without informing me, or if I find that you've been spending time with another man who is not your father without talking to me first, I _will_ punish you. You can count on that."

He has me pinned to the wall once again, and while his voice is soft, it is very stern. I don't doubt that he means every word he's saying.

"And one more thing," he adds with a rather wicked grin, "Don't think I forgot about you hanging up on me earlier. That's very rude, Ana. I won't tolerate that either. So, now you've been warned. Next time, I'll spank you, you will not argue about it, and I will enjoy it. It's very simple. Do you understand?"

I nod, transfixed by the heat in his gaze. This must be what it's like for a bird caught in a snake's charm.

"Yes," I reply.

"Good, because you can't expect to escape punishments forever, Ana. That is very much part of the deal. I won't push you too far, or ever actually harm you, but it's non-negotiable, baby."

Before I know it, he's kissing me again and my body responds to him like always. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my fingers in his hair, touching him in one of the few ways I'm allowed.

"Are you bleeding yet?" he asks between kisses, like it's the most normal topic of conversation on earth.

"Yes," I answer, almost in a whisper.

"Good. When did you start?"

_Jeez! _"Earlier today."

"And have you taken your pill?"

"Yes."

"Good girl," he praises with a grin. "That means I get to feel _all_ of you now. Go to the bathroom and sort yourself out," he orders casually. "There's supposed to be a Jacuzzi tub in the bedroom, I'll draw us a bath. Obviously, you won't need your clothes for this."

I hesitate. I am pretty sure I've turned a new never-before-seen shade of red. "Christian, I –"

"I don't care about that, Ana," he says. "It doesn't bother me. It's simply a natural process and I want you now." He cups my cheek tenderly and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Now, off with you," he says before giving me a swat to my backside. "Unless you really want to make my night, I advise you not to make me tell you twice."

I head to the bathroom to remove my clothing and to take out my tampon, of course. I can't say I'm 100% comfortable with the idea of sex while I'm on my period, but I'm not exactly against it either. I do want him. I'm just a little embarrassed about it. Hopefully that will pass, as he doesn't seem to have a problem with it himself.

When I exit the bathroom, he is testing the water running into the Jacuzzi. He is undressed as well. Oh my, his body is divine. I can see the finely toned muscles moving beneath the skin of his back as he moves. He's exquisite.

"There you are," he says as he turns around and allows his eyes to roam over my body. "You're looking mighty fine today, Anastasia."

"And so are you, sir," I say, returning his appreciative gaze with one of my own. He is _very_ excited right now and it shows.

"Come here," he says, holding out a hand. His voice is silky smooth, seductive.

I place my hand in his and he draws me forward into his arms. He allows his hand to roam down my body as he kisses me. First he lightly teases my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Are these tender?" he asks.

"A little," I mumble. My embarrassment is fading in the face of my arousal.

"Well, I'll just have to be extra careful then," he murmurs.

He leans his head down and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, but he is very gentle about it. I moan and arch my chest against his mouth. The feeling immediately travels between my legs. As he continues to suck lightly and swirl his tongue around my hardened nipple, he reaches a hand between my legs and begins working my clitoris.

"Oh yeah baby, you're ready for me," he breathes, sounding extremely pleased. "You never disappoint, Ana. You're my gorgeous, hot and horny little girlfriend…" he pauses as he increases the pressure between my legs. His voice is sensuous. "And you're my sweet little sub in training," he adds as he slips a finger inside me. I can feel my orgasm building beneath his skilled fingers. "You're mine in every way, baby."

I moan loudly as the tremors begin, but he pulls his fingers away at the last second and I whimper in protest. "No, no," he warns softly. "Not yet. You'll come when I say you come. You'll come with me buried inside you. I want to feel you coming on me, Ana. I've thought about that since I laid eyes on you. Now turn around, place your hands on the side of the tub, and let me have you the right way for once. No more of those damn condoms between us."

The Jacuzzi tub is high and built up on a tiled pedestal, so it is at the perfect height for me to grab onto. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me back toward him. "Hold on, baby. I'm going to take you now."

He enters me very slowly… too slowly. I try to buck my hips back to take more of him in, but he digs his hand into my hip, holding me still. "Uh, uh," he warns softly. His breathing is strained. "I'm enjoying this, Ana. It's even better than I imagined. So, hold still or I'll spank you." He groans as he steadily buries himself inside me inch by inch. "God, baby you're so fucking tight, so warm, so wet… _so perfect_. I'll never get enough of you."

He's finally all the way inside and without thinking I wiggle my hips trying to get some friction, because he's holding himself so still it's driving me insane. Immediately, I'm rewarded with a hard, stinging slap against the side of my right butt cheek. I cry out, more in pleasure than in pain. The sharp slap somehow heightened my arousal.

"I warned you," he says. It's his Dom voice – soft but incredibly stern. "You better hold still," he warns, emphasizing his words with another stinging slap, this time to the other side. I almost come right then. It's agony not to be allowed to move against him. He has me so wound up, but he won't give me any relief. I'm so frustrated.

"Please, Christian," I beg him.

He rolls his hips, giving me a small taste of what I'm craving before stilling again. "This is training, Anastasia. There are times when I'm going to want you to be a very naughty girl... but only in private, only when I tell you to, and _only for me_," he rolls his hips again as he emphasizes the last part. I'm not sure what he's asking me to do, but I'm pretty sure I don't care. I just want him NOW.

I wait, but he doesn't say anything else. "What do you want me to do?" I ask. My voice is desperate.

"That's a good start," he says, giving me one short thrust before stilling again. How does he do it? How does he maintain such control? "I just want you to tell me what you want," he says. I can tell by the tone of his voice, he's enjoying himself immensely.

"I want you," I moan. "Please, sir," I add, hoping his preferred title will get me what I need.

"That's very sweet, baby, but I want a sweet _and_ naughty girl right now."

Oh God, he wants me to _say it._ I find my throat doesn't want to work.

"Ana," he prompts with another rock of his hips. I can't take it any longer.

"Fuck me," I ask softly.

He slaps my backside again. "There's the naughty, but I don't hear the sweet."

"Fuck me, please, sir," I whisper. I'm so incredibly turned on.

"What's that, Ana?" he asks calmly. "I'm not sure I caught it."

"Please, fuck me, sir," I ask louder.

"So you want to be fucked, do you, Ana? That sounds like an awfully dirty thing for such a sweet girl to say. What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Steele?"

"I want you, sir. _Please_." I'm begging now.

"You wouldn't ask another man to do that for you, would you?" The last part is a growl.

"No, sir," I whimper. "Only you."

"Who do you belong to? Tell me."

"You, sir." I try to move again, I'm mindless with desperation.

"Oh, Ana," he scolds softly. "What am I going to do with you and your filthy little mouth? Maybe I should fuck you really, really hard to teach you a lesson?"

"Yes," I agree breathlessly. "Hard… fuck me hard."

"With pleasure," he breathes. He reaches up and wraps one hand around the base of my ponytail and continues to grip my hip tightly with the other. "Hold tight, Anastasia. Foul mouthed little girls get fucked especially hard."

He withdraws and slams back into me. I cry out from the exquisite sensation. He's denied me for so long that now every hard stroke is intensified tenfold. It's like being a crazy person, I am nothing but sensation. Christian is indeed the master of all things sex.

"Come for me, baby," he orders with a groan. "I want to feel it. Come on me."

I explode around him, literally seeing stars. I'm thankful for the tight grip he's keeping on my hair and hip, otherwise, I'm sure I'd be in the floor.

"_Oh yeah._ Baby, you have no idea how good that feels." His words are harsh and broken. His release quickly follows mine and he lets go, shouting my name.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I feel so relaxed, sitting between Christian's legs, reclining against him in the huge Jacuzzi tub. The bubbles and the pulse of the jets could easily put me to sleep.

"There will be no sleeping, Ana," he teases. He's in a very calm and gentle mood now. "Sit up so I can wash your back."

I grumble a bit, but do as I'm told. It's hard to resist the orders of sweet, playful Christian. My hair is piled high on my head, so he has access to my entire back. I hear him rubbing his hands together to soap them up and then he begins massaging my back with the soap.

"I'm not using one of those cheap wash cloths on you," he says sourly. "They're too scratchy for your skin." 

I giggle. "I don't think I'm that delicate, Christian. I assure you I can survive without five billion thread count, Egyptian cotton washcloths."

"I disagree," he says as he continues to soap my back. "Your skin is perfect. Only the best and the softest will do for my girl."

"Maybe you should just wash me with a tiny kitten," I tease. "I'm sure it would be extra soft." The absurdity of the idea makes me giggle again.

Christian leans forward and kisses the back of my head. "So, now I know how to get you to giggle like that for me. I must abuse cute and fluffy little animals. Anything to please you, Anastasia."

"The kittens of the world will be glad to know that's not necessary. You please me just fine, Mr. Grey."

"You have no idea how much you please me," Christian says, suddenly sounding much more serious as he gently rinses the suds from my back. "You've brought so much color to my life. It's like a whole new world."

That's exactly how I feel. I wonder how many other feelings we have in common as well. Could he be falling in love with me too?

"Christian," I say softly. "Can I wash you too? I want to touch you so badly and I don't understand why you won't let me." He immediately stills his movements behind me. I can feel the tension mounting in the air.

My subconscious narrows her eyes at me. _Good job, Steele. You really know how to ruin a moment._

"Ana, touching is a hard limit for me. I don't know why you can't accept that."

I turn in his arms and he actually flinches a little, apparently he thought I was going to touch him anyway.

"Christian, I'm not trying to make you angry," I say as I look into his now tense features. "I just don't understand. It makes me feel like you're rejecting me. Is it a sub thing? Because I think if I'm your girlfriend, I should be good enough to touch you."

Christian narrows his eyes at me. His features are cold and hard now.

_Bravo_, my subconscious says while giving a slow golf clap. _You have succeeded in completely demolishing the moment. You really know how to top yourself._

"Why are you so insecure?" he snaps at me. "This isn't about you. I had a very rough introduction to life and that makes touch very difficult. I'm fucked up, Ana. This has nothing to do with you or anyone else being 'good enough' to touch me. If you even knew how absurd that is."

I lower my head. I hate it when he's this angry. "I'm sorry, Christian. I just want to show you some affection… show you how much I care about you."

Christian stands up and reaches for a towel. "You're turning into a prune," he says. "I think it's time to get out of the water."

I stand up as he continues to hold the towel out expectantly, and stand there while he wraps it around me and helps me out of the high tub.

"Ana, it means a lot to hear that you care for me," he says sincerely. He looks sad.

Of course I care for him! Is he that blind?

"I've never wanted 'more' with anyone before you," he says. "But that doesn't change the fact that I am one severely damaged man. I'm trying. I really am, and I'll give you every flower on this earth if that's what it takes to make you happy, but I can't give you everything. I don't have a heart to give, Ana. That was burned out of me a long time ago. It's not your fault. It has nothing to do with you. I wish I could make you understand that."

I don't know what to say. What does he mean he doesn't have a heart? I don't believe that. It's ridiculous.

"Christian, I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. You do have a heart. How can you-?"

"Ana," he says sternly, cutting me off before I can continue. "You don't know what you're talking about. There are things…" he pauses and shakes his head. "Believe me, if I were a better man, I'd let you go."

_Oh no._ Those words literally feel like a knife in my heart.

"I should let you go to be with someone like your friend, Matt. He seemed like a decent guy… somebody who could give you things I'm not capable of. But I'm selfish, Ana. I can't let you go. I can't bear the thought of another man having you. You're mine. Always."

_Always?_ Now I'm completely speechless.

"Let's get dressed and find some dinner," he says. "Have you eaten?"

"Earlier, with Ray," I say distractedly. How can he change the subject so quickly?

"Well, you never eat enough. It won't hurt for you to eat again. I can order take-out pizza," he says, making it sounds like a rebellion of sorts. I have to admit that the idea of Christian with a box of Dominoes is quite amusing.

"I'm still kind of full from dinner. I even had dessert," I add hoping that will appease him.

"Very well, Miss Steele, I can see you're as stubborn as ever. I will make it a personal challenge to persuade you to eat one slice." He grins and pulls on his jeans. Apparently his good mood is restored. "I'm going to grab those flyers I saw on the coffee table," he says. "I'm sure my choices will be vast. Why don't you call your father and let him know you'll be staying here with me."

"I can't," I say with a shake of my head, although I really would like to. "Christian, I just got into town. I should spend some time at his house… and he's my dad. I can't tell him I'm staying the night with a man." I blush at the thought. I know I'm an adult, but still.

Christian looks extremely disappointed, lost almost. But to my shock, he doesn't argue. "I suppose you should spend time with your father," he agrees with a resigned sigh. "I wouldn't want him to disapprove and come after me with a shotgun."

I'm surprised by this. "Why Christian, are you saying you're afraid of my stepdad?"

He smirks at me and rolls his eyes. "No, Ana, I am not afraid of him or any other man. I simply don't believe it's considered good policy to get on the bad side of your girlfriend's father."

Christian wants Ray's approval. That's so adorable! And so traditional of him. Who knew?

He holds up a flyer for Pizza Hut – I suppose that's a little better than Dominoes. "Join me for some fine dining first," he says. "All you have to eat is one slice. Then I'll take you to your car. Hopefully, tomorrow I can arrange to spend some more time with you. We can even include Ray if you'd like."

"One slice," I agree. Honestly, it's not worth arguing about. I'm learning that he absolutely has to assert some sort of control in any given situation. A slice of pizza I can give him. It seems like a small price to pay.

XXXXXX

A/N: I don't usually like to make my intentions/reasoning this transparent when I write, but I've found that this fandom is rather shall we say… passionate ;) Therefore, to save myself some typing time, I am making an exception in this case. So, here goes:

**Should Ana have put the kibosh on the contract nonsense?**

Hell yes! Of course she should, I'm not arguing that. But Christian threw her a curve ball. He's offering that magical 'more', he gave her flowers, he followed her to her hometown. She's young, she's in love, a bit insecure, and very inexperienced. She's trying to keep her word and hold on to someone she loves. She's human therefore, not perfect, and she's in way over her head.

**Also *spoiler alert* - don't read if you don't want to know where this is going…**

First of all, these are just MY opinions. I'm not saying others are any less valid, but this is how I feel. Another reason Ana is still 'under contract' is that I believe what happened in the end of book one was absolutely essential to Christian's journey and to them establishing a different type of relationship. The way I see it, he _needed_ to see the disastrous and highly unsexy consequences of his desire to punish someone who was clearly not into the harsher aspects of his lifestyle. I am in no way judging those who do like that part of the lifestyle. As long as it's consensual and between adults, that's fine. I honestly could not care less if you paid me.

Problem is, I never felt like the punishment part of it was truly consensual. Ana was manipulated and pushed into giving consent that was not exactly well informed. Wikipedia, seriously? Come on! In my opinion, she had no freaking clue what she was getting herself into, and Christian did not do the best job of teaching her. He let his emotions and his own selfish desires get too far out of control. Because of that, he deeply hurt both Ana and himself - and I think it almost had to happen that way for him to have a true revelation.

*steps off soapbox*


	15. Chapter 15

When I awake it is almost 9:30AM in the morning. That's late, considering the fact that I was in bed and fast asleep by midnight. Unlike the past few nights I was able to get to sleep and stay asleep, so I suppose I needed to catch up. The time I spent in Christian's hotel room last night was wonderful, and it made for a much more restful night's sleep when I returned to Ray's.

_You mean, wonderful aside from the stalkery parts_, my subconscious reminds me. Honestly, I really don't need to hear her helpful remarks the minute I wake up.

I'm alone in the house since Ray is at work, but he's told me that he was able to get Thursday off to spend with me. So, tomorrow I have a nagging suspicion he's going to want to take me fishing. He seems to be holding onto a strange delusion where he teaches woefully uncoordinated Ana to master the precise art of fly fishing. Poor guy. I just hope I don't snag him with a hook this time.

The first thing on my agenda is firing up the machine to see if Christian has left me any messages. There are two! I can't believe I get so excited over simple emails, but our exchanges are so fun and often very informative.

The first one came in almost two hours ago (he's always up so early). It reads:

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Plans for the Day  
Date: June 01, 2011 07:35  
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

I hope you got your agreed-upon seven hours of sleep, because I would like to keep you quite busy today.

There are supposed to be some good mountain biking trails in Montesano and I'd love to take you.

I did not know if your stepfather would be available, but if he is, he is welcome to join us. If mountain biking is not his thing, we can do something else. I hear there is good fly fishing nearby. We aim to please, Miss Steele. ;)

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXXX

Mountain biking, huh? Honestly I've never done it. It always seemed a little too athletic for me, but I'm willing to try if it means spending the day with Christian.

Before replying, I read the previous email, which was sent last night after 2A.M. in the morning. Does he ever sleep?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Insomnia  
Date: June 01, 2011 02:15  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

I hope you are fast asleep and dreaming of me, although I wish you were doing that here. I always seem to sleep better when you're beside me.

Tonight was wonderful and I meant what I said – you can have all the flowers in the world if it pleases you.

Christian Grey  
Proud Boyfriend & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Wow! Christian should send me more emails in the middle of the night. Maybe fatigue makes him less guarded and definitely much sweeter. I practically bounce up and down when I read that signature line.

I really need to see him now, but I need to get a quick shower and wash my crappy medusa hair first. I shoot off a reply.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: Re: Plans for the Day  
Date: June 01, 2011 09:42  
To: Christian Grey

Mr. Grey,

I would love to spend the day with you, although I'm afraid you'll find my mountain biking skills are nonexistent. I can guarantee you that sport is not Ray's thing either, but that is fine since he is working today.

I'm going to go jump in the shower, feel free to come by at any time.

XX

Ana  
Proud Girlfriend

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I'm gathering my shampoo/conditioner and other things I'll need for my shower when I hear the incoming email ping coming from the laptop which still sits open on the bed. That was really fast! He must have been sitting in front of his computer waiting for my reply.

_Or working_, _DUH_ - my subconscious reminds me. _He is a very busy man. It's not all about you, Miss Steele._ God, she's hateful.

I try my best to ignore her and take a look at the email.

XXXXXXXXXXX

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Waste of Valuable Water Resources  
Date: June 01, 2011 09:46  
To: Anastasia Steele

Anastasia,

Obviously you've never been mountain biking. Believe me when I say that a shower beforehand is a huge waste of time and resources. You will be an extremely dirty girl by the time this is over and I very much look forward to cleaning you up.

I am on my way to you now.

Christian Grey  
Still Proud Boyfriend & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXXXX

How can he make sports sound so sexy? I hate sports.

I put my things back in my bag. No shower for now. I'll just brush my teeth and wash my face.

I have no clue what to wear, and I don't have a whole lot of choices. Jeans and sneakers or shorts and sneakers seem to be the options. Guess I'll go with the shorts, since I'll probably be getting hot from all the activity. I will have to shave my legs though, but I can sit on the edge of the tub for that and be done by the time Christian gets here.

When he does arrive, I think my higher brain functions short out for an unspecified amount of time. He's wearing tight, black biker shorts and a short-sleeved shirt that is almost equally as tight. I can see the outline of his pecs. The material is strange, I wouldn't call it cotton exactly. Spandex maybe?

_Oh my._

Good morning, Miss Steele," he greets with a lopsided grin. He cocks his head sideways as he stands in the doorway and I nearly swoon.

"Uh… Good morning, Mr. Grey," I hear myself say. I'm surprised I still have the power of speech.

"Are you going to ask me in?" he asks. He seems amused. I suppose he's used to this sort of reaction from women.

"Yes, of course," I murmur, stepping aside. "Come in."

The moment he steps across the threshold he pulls me into his arms and gives me a very thorough kiss. My mind is still trying to play catch-up when he finishes with the kiss and holds me at arm's length while he looks me over intensely. I'm just wearing a pair of old cut-off blue jeans and WSU t-shirt. I definitely don't look like the athlete he does.

"You're looking mighty fine - as usual – but your attire isn't exactly appropriate."

That's when I realize he's holding a shopping bag from a local sporting goods store in one hand.

"Go put these on," he orders cheerfully as he holds the bag out.

I take it cautiously and peer inside. Looks like I also have a pair of black bike shorts, along with a light blue short-sleeve shirt with a zipper down the front, a sport's bra, socks and a shoebox. As usual, he thought of everything. My eyes immediately hit on the price tag of the shirt. $89.95 – seriously? It's not even a pretty shirt. Christian senses my hesitation of course.

"What is it, Ana?"

I frown up at him and bite my lip. "You spent almost $100 on t-shirt?" I can't keep the amazement and disapproval from my voice. Christian does not look pleased.

"Yes, Anastasia, I did. It's not just a t-shirt. It's specially designed to keep you dry and cool. Believe me, higher priced biking attire can be found, but this was the best they had locally. I'll expect you to wear it without complaint."

"Okay," I reply a bit defensively, "I'll go change."

He reaches out and swats my backside rather hard as I turn to walk away. When I turn around, rubbing my behind and feeling outraged, he is grinning wickedly. "That's a warning, Anastasia. You should simply be grateful. One more chance before I take you over my knee. But I must admit I hope you do pitch a fit when you see the price tag on those shoes."

"Why, thank you, sir," I say too sweetly, giving him a quick curtsy before I quickly move toward my bedroom and out of the reach of his twitchy palms. I hear his laughter from behind me though.

"You're very brave, Miss Steele," he calls after me. "Just know I'll be happy to spank that cheeky attitude right out of you."

I'm sure he would. I suspect he's just dying for me to give him an excuse. The idea is sort of thrilling, but I'm still afraid he'll take things too far. The memory of all those whips and canes hanging in the playroom make his threats seem a little less fun.

The shoes cost over $200, the shorts were $75, and even the simple sports bra was almost $50. There's no price tag on the socks, but I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't absurdly overpriced too. To make it worse, the shoes aren't even pretty or particularly comfortable looking. Why would anyone spend that much money on stuff like this? Rich people are so strange. But Christian will be disappointed to know that I won't be giving him the pleasure of complaining. I'd rather be able to sit on the bike seat, thank you very much.

When I emerge in my new clothes, Christian is watching me with glowing eyes. I feel like an idiot, personally. What is up with these shorts I'm wearing?

"Mr. Grey, I know you're kinky, but I am a bit disturbed that the shorts you chose for me appear to have a built-in diaper. Is this a fetish I'm unaware of?"

Christian throws back his head and laughs, apparently he finds that very funny. When he finishes he shakes his head at me.

"That so-called diaper is meant to protect your cute little ass from being abused by all the bumps on the trails. I prefer to reserve that honor for myself," he says with a waggle of his brows. "It's a perfectly normal feature for bike wear, I assure you. There are no unusual fetishes involved… yet," he adds stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"So you didn't buy these shorts at a special sporting goods store that caters to the submissives of megalomaniac CEOs?"

He shakes his head, but continues to smile at me. "I have to say I'm shocked that I was unable to stay away from that smart mouth of yours for the week. I'm beginning to think witchcraft is the only reasonable explanation for your effect on me, because it's certainly not your humbly compliant nature."

_Unable to stay away?_ My goddess executes a perfect backflip.

"We aim to please, Mr. Grey," I say, giving him a wink and another curtsey.

"Behave," he warns with a smirk.

XXXXXXXXXX

To my surprise, mountain biking is actually fun. It's exhausting and I have to stop for frequent breaks and often push my bike up hills, but it's also incredibly exhilarating. Going downhill is kind of scary, but so much fun. And Christian was right about me not needing a shower. Aside from the fact that I've sweated half my body weight out, we've also splashed through numerous mud puddles and small streams.

The only drawback is that Christian is in full Mr. Safety control freak mode. Aside from wearing a helmet, I also have elbow pads, knee pads, and what's called a Camelbak strapped to my back. It's a lot like a backpack, but it holds water and has a tube to drink from. Christian is obsessed with me sipping water at his chosen intervals, and we almost had an argument when he insisted that I eat a protein energy bar during one break. I really wasn't hungry at the time, my adrenaline was pumping too hard for food. But in the end, I gave in and managed to finish half of a bar.

I was really disappointed when he flat out forbade me from taking any of the steep red trails. I would have had to push my bike up them, no doubt, but the coming down part looked like so much fun. Others who were out on the trails were obviously having an awesome time with those, and I was envious.

Instead, I was treated to a lecture about the dangers of pushing my limits too far and tales of unfortunate cyclists who broke arms, legs, and even necks when they wiped out on such extreme runs. You'd think he was my father. But, at least he does seem to truly care about my wellbeing. In all honesty, it's probably not a good idea for notoriously clumsy Ana to go flying down an expert-level trail at breakneck speed. That's not the point though. I should be able to break my neck if I want to, but the threat of a spanking kept me from exercising that right.

We spent several hours out on the trail and then enjoyed burgers and fries at the local greasy spoon while still covered in sweat and mud. Christian looked adorable. I, on the other hand, was terrified to get anywhere close to a mirror. Of course Christian always looks amazing. Still, it was funny to see the usually immaculate Mr. Grey with sweat plastered helmet hair and mud spattered clothing.

To my surprise, he seemed to greatly enjoy the cheap food and he was very pleased that I polished off a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake. I didn't do it to please him, I was just completely famished after all the strenuous activity.

When we got back to his hotel we took a hot shower together, which was interrupted twice by hot sex, and then he insisted on blow drying my hair. He was good at it too. How he learned to do that is a complete mystery. It was so relaxing, but I had to force myself not to wonder if he did this with all his subs. I almost fell asleep sitting there with the feeling of his fingers in my hair.

After the shower, he insisted on putting me to bed while he did some work on his laptop. I couldn't argue. I was too exhausted. I wonder if I'll ever be able to keep pace with this man.

"Wake up, Anastasia," he whispers against my ear. I groan in protest and burrow my head in the pillow. This is cruel. I just laid down two seconds ago.

"Anastasia," he says again, giving me a soft swat to my slightly sore backside. Those weird padded shorts weren't a bad idea, after all. Without them, I probably wouldn't have been able to walk for a week.

"Just a little longer," I grumble.

"Ana, baby, it's nearly five o'clock. I'm sure your father will want to have dinner with you."

How can it be five o'clock already? I must have slept for hours. I reluctantly peel my eyelids open and glare at Christian. I don't have a reason to really, but someone has to pay for me being tired and grouchy. I'm rewarded with a slightly harder smack to my bare backside.

"Ouch," I protest. "That's sore."

"I imagine it is," he says with a smile, "but I don't believe I've earned this sour mood of yours. I let you sleep as long as I could."

I force myself into a sitting position and accept a bottle of water that he presses into my hand.

"Drink," he orders. "You lost a lot of fluids today."

My throat is dry, so I take a long sip as I watch him walk across the room. He picks up a shopping bag that is sitting in a chair and brings it to me. What has he bought now?

"Obviously you can't put your filthy biking gear back on," he says, answering my unspoken question. "I peer inside the bag and there is a pair of khaki shorts, a periwinkle short-sleeved button down, underwear, and a pair of new socks and sneakers.

"They're not Neiman Marcus, but they'll have to do," he says with a frown. "I'm sure you'll look good in them regardless."

The clothes are nice, new, and best of all they weren't ridiculously overpriced. I decide to take these without argument. I'm not at all surprised to find that they fit me perfectly. Christian really does think of everything.

I'm scowling at my hair in the bathroom mirror when Christian walks in and steps up behind me. He obviously notices my expression.

"What's wrong?" he asks with a frown. "Do the clothes not please you?"

"The clothes are fine, Christian." _Seriously, does he think I expect Neiman Marcus?_ "It's just my stupid hair," I pout. "You gave me the perfect blowout and now it's gone all _pfft_." I hold my hands out to indicate the giant unruly mess sticking out on the sides of my head.

"_Pfft?" _he repeats, sounding amused. "Is that some technical beauty term I'm unaware of?"

"Yes, it means technically my hair sucks."

"Your hair is lovely, Anastasia," he scolds.

"Says you," I shoot back. I'm aware I'm being childish. I just woke up, I'm sore, and now my beautiful smooth blowout is a frizzy, unruly mess.

He smiles at me in the mirror. "Yes, _says me_," he emphasizes. "I'm the boss, remember. I call the shots."

I kind of want to stick my tongue out at Mr. Bossy Pants, but his smile is disarming.

"Here," he says as he picks up a brush. "If you're that upset about it, I'll braid it for you."

Before I know it, my hair is in a perfect, neat braid down my back. I blush, because it's the one he always uses in the playroom, however, he took more care with this one.

"Yeah, you know what this does to me, don't you?" he asks in his bedroom voice as he meets my eyes in the mirror. He tugs on the braid and brings my head back so he can kiss me. It's only just not painful.

He devours my lips slowly for a few long moments, then lets me go. "If we only had more time, Miss Steele… Too bad I must get you back to your father's house before he decides I'm a bad influence."

"You are a bad influence," I whisper. His kiss always manages to leave me breathless.

"Of course I am," Christian agrees. "But we don't want him to know that. If he knew the things I wanted to do to his little girl, I'm afraid he'd hide you away."

"I'm sure you'd have no problem finding me with your massive stalking skills."

"Me, a stalker?" He gives me his most boyish, innocent grin. "Surely you don't mean that."

I roll my eyes without thinking, but thank God he's moved to where he can no longer see my face. That was a very close call indeed, because I'm sure he won't warn me again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christian really does know how to lay the charm on when he wants to. He's the quintessential man's man when we go out to eat dinner with Ray at the local Italian restaurant. Ray's not a wine guy, so Christian graciously goes along with a pitcher of Miller Lite. I wonder how long it's been since Christian has drunk a beer that wasn't from some trendy microbrewery.

They talk easily about fly fishing and baseball while I worry with my lasagna. Honestly, why do these places have to give you such huge portions? Thank God, Dad steps in and saves me without even knowing it.

"Ana, honey, they gave you enough to feed a small army, didn't they? Why don't you have 'em box the rest up and you can have it for a snack later? Or heck, I might just eat it myself," he adds, patting his slightly protruding belly.

Christian frowns and I can tell he's checking out the contents of my plate for himself. In my defense, I have eaten almost half. "I suppose they did go a little overboard," he reluctantly admits. "Americans waste so much food," he observes sourly. "If restaurants would only serve reasonable portions, there would be so much more to go around and everyone would be healthier."

Just then his phone rings and knocks him off his soapbox. He pulls out his Blackberry and glances at it before sending the call straight to voicemail and setting it aside. "I'm sorry," he says to Ray. "I never get a moments peace."

"Go ahead, take your call," my stepdad says. "A man's gotta earn a living."

"No, business can wait until after dinner." He barely finishes the sentence before the phone rings again. Whatever it is, it must be important.

"Grey," he snaps in his usually brusque manner. He listens for a moment, his features darkening. Uh oh. Fifty's not happy.

"You're serious?!" He almost yells and then immediately lowers his voice. "How did she even gain access to that sort of information? It's supposed to be classified! Just hold on a minute," he orders gruffly. He's clearly highly agitated. He holds the phone away from his ear. "Please excuse me," he says calmly and politely, addressing Ray and myself. "I'm afraid I have to take this call."

"Not a problem," Ray assures him, waving him off.

I admit I'm too interested in trying to figure out what's going on to pay attention to their exchange. Unfortunately, Christian walks straight toward the front door and well out of my earshot. He obviously wants to keep this conversation private.

"Busy man," Ray remarks as he takes a drink from his beer. "I guess business emergencies don't stop at five."

"Guess not," I mutter. What in the world is going on? Someone is getting into his classified information and a female someone, no less - my curiosity is piqued. I suppose this could be an industrial espionage type of situation, but I have a sinking feeling that something else is going on here. Christian looked shaken beneath his anger.

He returns about five minutes later and tosses a hundred dollar bill on the table. He looks pale. "I'm afraid I must be going," he says. "There's an emergency in Seattle that I must handle personally. That should take care of the meal and the tip," he says as he points toward the hundred.

"That's way too much," Ray protests. "And I'd planned on paying tonight."

Christian puts on his polite, businesslike demeanor, although I can tell something is very wrong beneath it all.

"That's very kind of you," he says, "but I insist, Mr. Steele. Consider it my apology for running out before the meal is over. Please, stay and enjoy yourselves. Have some dessert on me. I noticed the menu listed homemade tiramisu. You can pay next time," he adds, obviously sensing Ray's reluctance to take his cash. _Interesting…_he seems to understand other men much better than women. I wonder if that's normal.

Ray stands up and offers his hand for Christian to shake. "It was nice having dinner with you, Christian. I'll make sure Annie gets your change back to you," he says. "And next time dinner's on me, no getting out of it."

"Yes sir," Christian agrees politely, returning Ray's handshake. "But you can leave the change for the waitress."

Ray looks shocked. That's because the waitress will be getting around a $50 tip at the least. He must think Christian is completely insane. Before he can say anything else, Christian holds out a hand to me.

"Ana, may I talk to you outside for a moment?"

"Of course," I murmur. I obediently allow him to lead me out into the evening air. I have to know what's going on.

"Christian, what's wrong?" I ask once we're alone.

He reaches up and runs his hand across my cheek and gently sticks an escaped tendril behind my ear. "Nothing for you to worry about," he says. "Just an unfortunate situation I must see to."

"Is it business?" I ask, hoping to get more information. He's quiet for a moment and I begin to think he's not going to say anything.

"A contractor," he finally says," well… ex-contractor, technically."

I remember the mess last weekend with the contractor who hired illegal labor. Christian was awfully angry about that, and I got the impression there was firing involved. Maybe this is just more of that.

"I'm sorry, Christian," I say sympathetically.

"Me too, baby." He suddenly crushes me in his arms. There is a desperation to the kiss he gives me. I feel as if he's trying to devour me whole. When he finally pulls away, he's breathless and looks haunted. "Friday?" he asks. He almost sounds unsure of my reaction.

I nod. The intensity of his emotions has temporarily taken my power of speech away. "Yes, Friday," I manage to say. "I plan to leave here around noon. I'll be at Escala that evening."

He pauses a moment and I think he's about to say something else, but he just leans forward and kisses me gently on the forehead instead. "Enjoy your visit," he says simply. "I'll email you later."

He hugs me one final time, holding me close and burying his nose in my hair, and then he's gone. I'm left standing there with a very uneasy feeling.


	16. Chapter 16

Ray and I are supposed to go fishing today, but I've got a few minutes while he putters around putting together his gear, so I fire up my laptop. Maybe there's a message from Christian, although it is barely 7:30 in the morning. Sadly, Ray considers that late, but he's taking pity on me. He thinks the fish bite better very early in the morning. I think the fish don't have watches.

I still haven't heard from Christian since he left so abruptly last night and I'm starting to get concerned. His expression was so disturbingly haunted. Work doesn't usually do that to him. Sure, I've seen him angry about business before, but usually there's a certain amount of detachment involved.

_Hello, Ana - semantics? You're supposed to be well-acquainted with the English language, Miss 4.0. Think about it. You already know one person who has a current contract with Mr. Grey? Guess you could call that girl a 'contractor'._

Holy shit! ex-contractor = ex-sub!? The very thought sickens me, but it does make a lot of puzzle pieces suddenly fall into place. In my gut, I immediately know it's true.

_Oh God._ Christian left me and rushed back to Seattle for an ex? I can't breathe. I feel like he has literally reached into my chest and crushed my heart.

I fire up my laptop and hold my breath while my email program loads. The last time I checked was before I went to bed last night around midnight, but maybe something came in early this morning. Of course if there is one, I'm terrified that it might read something like:

_Miss Steele,_

_I've gone back to my ex. You may keep the car, and I'm sending you a lovely set of steak knives as a parting gift. Consider your contract terminated._

_It was nice knowing you._

_Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc._

But before the machine has a chance to load, my cell phone starts ringing. It's Christian! Why is he calling me so early? I decide to skip the hellos.

"Christian, is every-?"

"Ana, thank God your phone's on," he interrupts with what sounds like a sigh of relief. "I was hoping to reach you beforehand."

"Beforehand? Before _what_ hand exactly?"

"Look out your window," he says. "There should be a black Audi SUV parked on the street near your stepfather's house."

I peer out the window and sure enough, there is one.

"Do you see it?" Christian prompts impatiently.

"Yeah, I see it, but I don't understand it. Christian, what-?"

"That's private security. His name is Sawyer. The…" he pauses significantly, "_situation _that came up last night has turned volatile. I need to be sure you're safe, he'll be accompanying you during the rest of your stay there. I will explain the situation later."

"Why don't you explain the situation to me now, Christian?!"

"Anastasia, don't argue." Honestly, it sounds like he's addressing an employee. "I will explain when you get back into town. Right now, I just need to know that you're safely under Sawyer's protection. Trust me. This is for your benefit."

"Christian, is this troublesome ex-contractor an ex-sub?"

The silence is deafening. I'll take that as a 'yes'. I'm furious now, which unfortunately means the tears are starting to spill. I hate that!

"Do you really think I'm that stupid? You actually thought I wouldn't figure out your brilliant play on words? What's going on Christian? Explain yourself or I'm calling the police and telling them there's a peeping tom in a black Audi stationed outside my dad's house."

"Ana, baby, please don't cry." His voice has gone from stern to soothing. "I didn't tell you, because I didn't think it concerned you and I don't want you to worry. Yes, this does involve an ex-sub and she seems to have had a psychotic break of some sort. I honestly have no idea why she's turned back up. We parted on amicable terms and, last I heard, she was happily married. I haven't seen or spoken to her in years. Now, will you please cooperate and let Sawyer protect you."

"No."

"_What do you mean, no?!" _

He's clearly outraged and I still find that highly intimidating. I'm really thankful he's a hundred miles away right now. I try my best to sound resolute, although I'm still having a problem fighting my tears.

"I don't understand what this has to do with me, Christian. You still haven't told me anything."

"Ana, you don't need to worry. Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to bring you home now, but the security team is adamant that you are safer in Montesano and I suppose they have a point. Everything should be sorted out by the time you get back tomorrow. You have to cooperate. Trust me, I don't wish to frighten you," he sighs.

"Well, you already are. So spill it, Grey."

Christian groans audibly. He's beyond frustrated with me now. Too bad.

"She showed up at Escala last night. I'm still not sure how she got in. The security codes have been changed several times since we parted ways. Gail was the only one inside…" he trails off.

"_Christian."_

"She said some things to Gail, _crazy things_. Ana, it's really not important. The girl is very sick right now. What frightens me is that she had a picture of you with her. The one taken of us at your graduation," he adds carefully and quite reluctantly. "She made a haphazard attempt to open a vein. Ms. Jones got her to the hospital, but the incompetent psychiatrist on-call released her!" he rages. "The stupid fucker apparently doesn't consider her a danger to herself or others. Now she's disappeared."

_Holy crap. _

"Is she after you, Christian? Did she come there to hurt you?" The idea terrifies me. Now I'm in a panic. What if she came there to kill Christian?

"I don't know, Ana," he grits out in exasperation. "That's not really my primary concern here. I'll be fine. I have excellent security and I think I can handle myself against one girl. I'm worried about you. Please don't make this difficult."

"I'm coming back to Seattle."

"No, Anastasia, you're not. Believe me, Taylor and I argued at length about this. I wanted you to come back immediately, but he's adamant that you are safer where you are. I employ him because he is an expert in these matters. Despite my personal wishes, my instincts say I should allow him to do his job. He and the rest of the security team will be better able to concentrate on finding Leila if they don't have to worry about you as well."

Leila, huh? At least now I know her name.

"And if you don't find this Leila person by tomorrow, am I exiled to Montesano for the foreseeable future? Because that's not happening, Christian. I have a home there and hopefully very soon I'll have a job."

"Of course not, Ana, I couldn't bear it if you were gone for any longer. I'm just asking you to stick to your original plan."

"But Christian, she could hurt you! What if she came after you and I wasn't there… I'd never forgive myself."

Christian chuckles and I honestly want to punch him. I'm not useless and I'm certainly not helpless.

"Ana, it warms my heart that you're so keen on protecting me, but I assure you, I'll be fine. In fact, I'll be safer knowing you're out of harm's way. If I am a target, then it's best you don't get caught in the crossfire."

"I can shoot a gun, you know."

"You with a gun?" The stunned disbelief in his voice is so satisfying.

"Yes, Christian - me with a gun. Ray is ex-army, he made sure I knew how to handle firearms. You can ask him yourself. I'm an excellent shot. What about you?"

"I detest firearms, Miss Steele, but you can rest assured that my security team does not. I am well protected. Besides, I honestly don't believe that Leila truly intends to do anyone harm. She's not a violent person. She's just extremely mentally fragile right now, she needs psychiatric help and I intend to get it for her. But I don't wish to take any chances where you're concerned. You are staying with your stepfather and Sawyer in Montesano," he emphasizes slowly. "That is an order from your Dom, Anastasia. At the moment, your boyfriend has left the building. If you attempt to defy me and return to Seattle before tomorrow afternoon, you'll find walking to be very difficult for the foreseeable future. Bluntly put - I will set your little ass on fire. Are we clear?"

"Do I have a choice?" I snap sarcastically.

"No, baby, you don't."

Argh! I want to shoot him myself.

"I'm hanging up on you now, Mr. Grey," I say in a sickly sweet voice. "My backside suggested I inform you of my rude intentions."

"Fine, Ana. I'll let that slide," Christian says in an infuriatingly calm voice. "I know you don't like this, but I'd rather you be angry with me and safe. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

I push the 'end' button and throw the phone. Times like this, I wish land lines were still more popular. Slamming down the receiver would be so much more satisfying than pushing a stupid button. I'm not sitting here and twiddling my thumbs. I'm going back to Seattle. It's a matter of principal now. My subconscious thinks I'm being an unreasonable child about this, but she can stick her opinions where the sun doesn't shine. I just need to find Ray and try to explain why I have to leave without terrifying him.

He's not to be found anywhere in the house, so I head out to the garage, shooting a resentful look at the SUV on the way. The windows are tinted so I can't see the mysterious Sawyer, but I'm sure he sees me.

As I suspected, Dad's in the garage loading the truck up with his gear. I take a deep breath to compose myself and consider and reject several excuses. Before I can decide on one, I hear his voice and it's obvious he's not addressing me.

"_I appreciate you keeping me informed, son."_

Son? Surely he's not talking to Christian. Dad has always had a tendency to address my male friends and younger men that way, but Christian Grey!That's just way too bizarre.

"_No, absolutely, there's no way she's going back to Seattle before tomorrow if you don't think it's 100% safe. I'll lock her in her room if I have to."_

Oh shit! He IS talking to Christian. That traitor!

"_You got it, and I don't think you're being overly cautious._ _That's my baby girl we're talking about. If there's even a chance of her getting hurt, I want to take every precaution."_

I step in front of my stepdad so he can see me and ask him to give me the phone. He holds up a hand to me and keeps talking!

"_Yes, Christian, I understand. Believe me, I know how stubborn she is. You too…. Goodbye now."_

Then he hangs up the phone.

"Dad! How could you?! What did Christian say to you?" I suspect ex-subs were conveniently left out of the conversation.

"He said there was an ex-contractor with a beef against him. He assures me it will be taken care of immediately, but he wants you to be looked after in the meantime. Apparently, this person was able to access some confidential information, so Christian is just being extra cautious. He doesn't think you're in danger, especially if you're hear in Montesano with me."

"Extra cautious, huh?"

"Yes, Annie. Sometimes people get way too personal over business. It can't hurt to be cautious."

Oh, if he only knew what that 'business' entailed. This is SO not a construction contract we're talking about here.

Ray is shaking his head at me. The man is so unflappable. If he were Christian, I'd scream at him, but he's not. He's the only father I've ever known and Christian KNOWS that. He's ruthlessly using that fact against me. He knows I won't want to tell my father the gritty details about this so-called 'contractor' and he also knows I won't be as likely to defy Ray. He's so sneaky and underhanded!

"Honey," Dad says gently, "Christian just doesn't want someone with a personal vendetta to take it out on you. From what he told me, I think he's being paranoid and this has nothing to do with you. He even said as much… but I gotta say, I'm glad your safety is so important to him. He's obviously madly in love with you. We males get awfully twitchy if we think something's a threat to the important women in our lives. Give us a break. We're all still practically cavemen at heart," he says half-jokingly.

"_Dad."_

"Do it for your old man, baby. I'm not getting any younger. Christian has everything under control in Seattle."

"You're only forty-five," I say with my arms folded in front of me.

"Yeah, well according to you that's ancient. Come on, Annie," he implores. "Let's invite Mr. Sawyer in and I'll make you some tea. Then we'll all go fly fishing and forget about all the big city hoopla. Christian says his man has been known to cast a mean fly on his time off."

Of course he has, I think bitterly. Christian no doubt planned it that way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fishing excursion is a bit uncomfortable. Ray seems to hit it off with Sawyer. They're both ex-military, both like to fish, and both obsessed with my security. It's a match made in heaven.

Sawyer, for his part, is nice and pleasant, but I completely resent his presence. Despite the fact that he keeps calling me Miss Steele and practically treats me like glass, I still feel like his very unwilling prisoner. I'm not rude to him, but I am rather cool. I think Dad's disappointed in me, but I'm doing my best not to tell them both to jump in the deep end of the stream.

Mostly, I'm flipping back and forth between being violently angry with Christian and being extremely worried about him. I don't like this feeling of helplessness. What if he's wrong about this crazy ex-sub of his? What if she finds some way to get to him and hurts him… or worse? She did break into Escala and knowing Christian, that's no mean feat. Yet, she somehow got her hands on the security codes. I'm sure they've already been changed again, but if she has a person on the inside, she could get them again. Who in Christian's inner circle would do such a thing? I know Taylor wouldn't and I don't know the housekeeper well, but I don't see her betraying Christian either. It's all very unnerving.

When we get back closer into town, there is a message on my cell. I didn't get the call as it came in, since my service wasn't so great out on the stream. Sawyer, on the other hand, must have some sort of superspy service, because I noticed his phone was working fine.

According to the message, I have a job with SIP starting Monday if I want it. All I have to do is call them back, which I do. Ray is very proud and congratulatory. The news does lift my spirits a bit. I'll be the Assistant to the Editor in Chief. Pretty impressive, even if I do say so myself. And, most importantly, I did it all on my own without any help from Mr. Rich and Too Powerful.

My somewhat lighter mood is immediately threatened when I'm not allowed to go into my own childhood home until Sawyer has 'cleared it'. Honestly, this is beyond all reason. Even if this girl was after me, I doubt she could track me here. After all, not everyone is gifted with Christian's massive stalking abilities and unlimited funds.

When I am allowed inside, I decide to check the mean machine for email and see if Christian has anything else to say for himself, because I know I have a few things to say to him. He hasn't called back all day, although I know he and Sawyer have some sort of bat signal going on between them.

There are actually two different messages from Christian.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Your Wrath  
Date: June 02, 2011 08:10  
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Miss Steele,

I realize you are incredibly angry with me right now and that is fine. You being angry will not stop me from protecting what is mine.

Now try to have fun and don't give Sawyer or your stepfather too hard of a time. You'll only be spiting yourself. Sawyer is just doing his job and, in a sense, your stepfather is as well.

I do look forward to seeing you tomorrow, claws bared or not. You should know I have my own cat for unruly kittens ;)

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXXX

Ooh! Claws bared? Unruly kittens? I'll show him _claws bared_! And Christian doesn't have a cat. What the hell is he talking about? As soon as I read the other email I'm going to send him the world's most scathing reply.

XXXXXXXXXXX

From: Christian Grey  
Subject: Your Safety  
Date: June 02, 2011 02:44  
To: Anastasia Steele

Dear Anastasia,

I wish to extend my apologies to you, once again, for leaving so abruptly earlier. Please pass my regrets along to Ray as well. I will make it up to the both of you.

I don't wish to upset you, but I have taken some necessary measures to ensure your safety, which I will discuss with you at a more decent hour. You will probably not approve, but you are far too important for me to risk your wellbeing in any way. The situation I mentioned earlier has gotten out of hand. I don't believe you to be in any real danger, but if any harm were to come to you because of your association with me, I would never forgive myself. You deserve to be safe and happy.

I miss you terribly and wish you were here with me now. My bed is quite cold without you here to warm it.

Christian Grey  
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

XXXXXXXXX

I should have stopped with the most recent message, because now the edge is taken off of my ire. The earlier message was sent in the middle of the night. So, obviously, Christian is not sleeping for the second night in a row and that worries me.

Are Ray and Kate both right? Is Christian actually in love with me? Part of me thinks it is a possibility, but he flat out told me he had no heart to give. I'm sure he cares for me in his own control freak manner and he certainly finds me physically attractive, but could there be 'more'.

Deep, deep sigh. I have to say something. I can't let him off the hook so easily, even if he does 'miss me terribly'.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

From: Anastasia Steele  
Subject: MY WRATH  
Date: June 02, 2011 15:25  
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey,

Why yes, I AM incredibly angry with you right now! You used my own family against me! That was underhanded and very unfair. I know the air is thinner way up there in your ivory tower, but this security thing is WAY OVER THE TOP. Might I remind you that I am not Michelle Obama and Sawyer is certainly not a member of the Secret Service. Out of respect for my stepfather, I will be enduring this ridiculous security crap until I leave here tomorrow, but after that – NO WAY! FORGET IT!

Also, I certainly don't appreciate you comparing my feelings to those of a tiny, helpless, furbearing mammal. If you must bring sexist metaphors into the discussion, you may find it enlightening to know that my so-called 'claws' are much more reminiscent of a full-grown mountain lion than a cute and fluffy kitten. I thought you should know.

Have a good evening, sir.

Ana

P.S. I'm not sure if you're interested in the budding career of a 'kitten', but I did get a job offer today, which I have accepted. I start Monday. It's with a company called SIP, although I'd be shocked if you didn't already know that.

XXXXXXXXX

I feel much better once I hit 'send'. That should give Mr. Grey something to think about. I actually find it in me to give my dear Secret Service agent a polite smile when I pass by him. The idiot is back in his suit again. Honestly, he looks like one of _The Men in Black_.

Ray left me alone with him, so he could go pick up some stuff for dinner. He's insisting on cooking the trout he and Sawyer caught and he called in an order for the dessert and side dishes at the local diner. He says I shouldn't have to cook since this is a celebration of my new job, and I know he's trying to walk on eggshells around me too - which is irritating. It's hard to be angry at his betrayal when he's being so nice.

The house phone rings and Sawyer immediately moves toward it. Uh uh, he's not answering my dad's phone. Not going to happen. I'm closer, so I grab it up first.

"Hey," I snap. Ouch, I'm starting to sound just as short and grating as Christian when he answers a phone. I better reel that in.

"_Ana?"_ a male voice asks uncertainly.

It's certainly not Christian. It takes me a moment to realize it's my friend, Matt Conner.

"Matt, hey," I say apologetically. "Sorry, it's been a long day. How are you?"

"_Good, just checking up on you to be honest. I've been worried since the other night. I tried to call yesterday, but nobody was in."_

"Oh… sorry about that," I bite my lip and look over at Sawyer who's doing a great job of pretending he's not listening. "I'm fine, Matt. We just talked." …_and had some sorta kinky sex against the side of a Jacuzzi. _"Thanks for checking up on me, I really didn't mean to worry you."

"_Well, I don't want to cause problems for you, but I was also hoping you were up for a good ole fashioned Rook tournament. Sarah Boaz is back in town too and she's still seeing Danny Bowers. They'd love to see you and I need a partner. Friends only, of course. Your boyfriend obviously works out,"_ he jokes.

Oh that takes me back to simpler times and I'd LOVE to see Sarah and Danny. Sarah and I kept in touch a little after graduation, but we both got busy with our lives and haven't spoken in a couple years. A group of us used to play Rook a lot during high school, especially when we went out of town for the Model UN or Odyssey of the Mind. Many nights were spent evading the chaperones and piling up in one room so we could play until the early hours of the morning. Once there were even wine coolers involved. We were indeed a wild bunch.

"That sounds great," I tell Matt. "Dad's cooking dinner, but I should be free by sixish. Where do you guys want to meet?"

"Excuse me, Miss Steele." That would be Sawyer. Surprise, surprise.

I hold the phone against my chest and look at him expectantly. I'm just daring him to say what I know he's going to say. To his credit, he doesn't look the least bit intimidated by my glare.

"Miss Steele, I'm under orders to make sure you stay in the house tonight."

I tell Matt to give me a minute and press the 'mute' button on the phone. I don't want him to hear this.

"Oh really?! And exactly how are you going to stop me?"

Ray joins the party just then and I do lose it a little explaining what's going on. Why do I suddenly feel like a whiny teenager having to beg to go out and spend time with her friends? I'm almost twenty-two years old!

"Annie, honey, why don't you just ask your friends to come over here?" he says diplomatically. "They're more than welcome, plus I bought some champagne. They can join in on the toast to your new job."

"I think that sounds like a much better idea," Sawyer agrees. _Who asked him?_

I throw up my hands. "Fine, we'll play the dangerous game of Rook under adult supervision," I hiss at him. "But you are going to take off that ridiculous suit and pretend to be Dad's long lost nephew or something."

"As you wish, Miss Steele," he says impassively. It's probably unfair, but I really don't like this man. I resolve to pretend he does not exist for the remainder of my stay here. He can be Dad's long lost nephew that I happen to bitterly dislike. I'm also not calling Christian to inform him of my intention of being within fifty yards of a male who is not my stepdad. I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm going to be well supervised, and I'm sure Sawyer will give him a debriefing that includes graphs and flowcharts. Anything else would be overkill.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: RL has been completely nuts. I've had to travel for work and all sorts of annoying things, which is why I haven't been able to update.

Thanks to all of you who've reviewed and messaged me. I do appreciate it - so much - and I'm sorry I haven't had time to reply. Unfortunately, I feel like I barely have time to eat and sleep lately.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ray was able to take the morning off to spend with me before I left, and I was extremely grateful, since he provided a buffer between myself and Sawyer. Part of me realizes that I am unfairly projecting my anger at Christian onto this poor man, but that part of me is currently out-of-the-office. Unfortunately for Sawyer, frustrated-Ana is still very much in control.

I just don't get Christian AT ALL. On one hand, he tells me he 'has no heart to give' and then on the other, he freaks out at the very idea of me being in any danger _and_ calls me his girlfriend. Honestly, I don't know what to think anymore.

My stepdad's parting advice also broke my heart a little, because I knew it was coming from a place of unconditional love - something my subconscious loves to remind me I don't have with Christian. Mr. In-Control has tons of conditions which must be initialed, signed, and no doubt filed in some state-of-the-art fireproof safe.

"Hold your temper, Annie," Ray said in his usual calm manner. "Christian is just trying to keep you safe. I can't fault the man for wanting to take care of my little girl. Maybe the guy's going overboard, but love makes you crazy sometimes."

_Love –_ that is very much the operative word here. The problem with that advice is that Ray believes Christian and I have a normal relationship. He has _no_ idea. If he did, he'd be horrified and Fifty would need to be far more worried with his own personal security detail, since Dad would definitely try to kill him.

XXXXXXXXX

I am far past mere irritation by the time I pull my car into the underground garage at Escala. Christian has really gone off the deep end with this security thing. Sawyer tailed me all the way back to Seattle! He didn't simply follow, _he tailed_. There's a difference.

Being tailed is much like being stalked and I don't like it at all. I even took an out-of-the-way detour to test my theory and, sure enough, he crossed three lanes of traffic to get off on the same exit. That led me to conclude that this guy takes his job way too seriously, Christian is completely insane, or Leila is actually some sort of international superspy who is capable of snatching me out of a moving car. Whatever the scenario, I want an explanation now.

As I enter the apartment, I am braced for a fight since I'm certain all of Mr. Grey's fifty shades will be fully on display. The difference is, this time, I'm angry too. Tonight should be very interesting indeed.

There have been so many disagreements over the past few days and, as bad as those things are, I'm sure they all pale in comparison to my unauthorized visit with Matt last night – the one I'm sure Sawyer has told him all about in excruciating detail.

Not that the details were in any way exciting, because absolutely _nothing_ happened. It was just a night of cards and gossip among a group of old friends. But, in the light of day, I really wish I'd told Fifty about it beforehand. For one thing, he wouldn't be able to use it to distract me from the security issue, something I'm sure he's going to try and do. So, I better be ready for anything.

As I walk into the great room, I can see Christian in profile. He is wearing one of his gray suits, but the jacket is undone and his hair is messier than usual. I've found that often means he's agitated and has been running his hands through it a lot.

Most men would look sloppy or unkempt in this state, like someone who'd just blown a huge business deal or lost all their money on the stock market. Christian, however, is not most men. He looks like an artfully rumpled male model in the midst of a photo shoot. It is sort of infuriating.

Some of my irritation fades when I see the thoughtful and worried frown on his face as he stares out the window. Male model or not, something is wrong here. He looks hopelessly forlorn. It breaks my heart that I can't just go and throw my arms around him without fear of violating his touching rule.

"Absolutely nothing?" I hear him ask whoever is on the other end of the line. There is both tension and fatigue in his voice. "You're telling me there's no trace. How is that even-?"

He must have noticed me out of the corner of his eyes, because he pauses in his conversation and turns to face me. Everything about his demeanor immediately changes. I can almost literally see the tension melting away. For a brief moment, his face breaks out in the most breathtaking and completely unguarded smile. My heart flip flops in my chest and my inner goddess rejoices. The joy on his face is something you'd imagine seeing on someone who is witnessing the return of someone they cherish - _someone they love_, I dare to think.

Then the look is gone almost as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder if wishful thinking is causing my imagination to run wild on me. Now, his expression is a bit more familiar, yet still more intense than usual. His gaze is smoldering and passionate, and the overwhelming attraction between us slams into me, making my pulse quicken and my knees weak. He wants me. That is not my imagination. And I _very_ much want him too.

"Keep me informed," he snaps, abruptly ending his telephone conversation. He doesn't take his eyes off me as he sets his phone aside.

He rips off his jacket and tie as he strides toward me, then starts working on the top few buttons of his shirt, all the while never pausing in his progress. I stand rooted to my spot, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze.

_Holy Crap! _Does he intend to take me right here in the great room?

He crushes me flat against his chest, gripping the base of my ponytail as he pulls my head back to receive his kiss. His manner is a bit rough, but I don't care. I'm too caught up in the desperate, primal quality of his lust, completely overwhelmed by his delicious smell and his nearness. It is almost like he's trying to devour me whole.

My own passion for him combines with the anger and frustration I've been feeling, causing me to return his kiss with a desperation of my own. We clutch at one another, our tongues almost dueling. There is something stormy about our encounter and it is a bit frightening on some level, yet I find myself incredibly aroused.

Finally, he breaks the kiss and stares down at me almost like he's trying to memorize my face. The mix of longing and anxiety and… _something else_… is almost painful to witness.

"What is it, Christian?" I ask. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing. It's very frustrating. I can't help feeling-," he stops mid-sentence and shakes his head stubbornly. "Never mind, I don't wish to go into that now. I'm just so glad you're home. Come to bed with me."

It is most definitely an order, but one I have no intention of arguing with. Crazy ex-subs, high school friends who happen to be male, and insane security requirements can wait.

He takes me by the hand and leads me straight to his room, kicking the door closed behind us. Once we're safely ensconced in the privacy of his bedroom, he grabs my other hand and turns me around to face him.

Christian looks like he literally wants to eat me alive. I feel very cornered standing there in front of him with the bed close at my back, and it is absolutely exhilarating.

"Has your period finished?" he asks urgently.

"Yes." I flush.

"Good, because I need to taste you."

_Ooh, he really does want to eat me alive. _

"Take off your clothes, Anastasia," he commands as he stares intently down at me. "I want to see all of you."

I stand frozen, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. There he stands in his custom tailored, designer clothes and here I am in a pair of faded Levis and an Old Navy t-shirt. I now wish I'd spent less time being irritated with him and more time making myself look presentable.

He smiles at me and the expression on his face is purely predatory. "Your wardrobe has arrived, Miss Steele. So, don't think I'll hesitate to rip those clothes from you and leave them lying in pieces on the floor."

_Oh my._

"You're biting that lip," he says in a low, warning voice. "You know what that does to me."

I didn't even realize I was doing it, but now that he's pointed it out, I don't stop. Instead, I continue to keep it locked between my teeth as I look him straight in the eye and begin to slowly lift my shirt over my head. The act of teasing Mr. Grey carries a dangerous thrill.

"If you wish to keep those clothes, I would take them off quickly," he threatens.

His tone sends a bolt of desire shooting through me and I quickly bend to his wishes. In one movement, the shirt is over my head and tossed aside. I also make quick work of my bra while kicking off my sneakers at the same time. When I start to undo the button on my jeans, he places his hands over mine.

"I want to do that," he says as he brushes my fingers aside.

He undoes my zipper and begins sliding my jeans off my hips, sinking down to his knees in front of me at the same time. He presses his nose against my navel and trails it down between my legs, breathing in and making a nearly animal-like growl as he buries his face in my crotch. It is so embarrassing, but also thrilling to be this wanted. I have never felt so desired.

Christian grabs the waistband of my underwear with his teeth and pulls my panties away from my skin, nipping me slightly in the process. He grins devilishly as he looks up at me, still holding the elastic in his teeth.

I gasp audibly when I see the heat in his gaze. Honestly, I think I may come before he actually touches me this time.

As his teeth let go, the material snaps lightly against my skin and he continues to watch my face as he slowly peels my panties off, trailing his fingers against my skin as he goes. Obediently, I step out of them and then he stands, holding the blue cotton material up in front of my eyes before pressing them against his face and inhaling deeply.

Oh my God!

He smirks at my shocked expression and tosses the panties over his shoulder with a wink.

I cry out in surprise when, without warning, he grabs me by the waist, lifts my feet off the ground and tosses me backward. The bed is a couple of feet behind me and I land with a bounce, clawing at the thick comforter, desperately trying to find some sort of purchase before I go flying into the floor. I'm in no danger of doing so though, because Christian immediately joins me on the mattress, grabs me by the ankles, and pulls me toward him, spreading my legs wide.

When he lets go of me and begins working on the buttons of his shirt, I close my thighs without thinking. I'm so exposed. It's a natural reaction.

"Uh uh," he scolds with a shake of his head. "I am about to devour you, Miss Steele. But I'd very much like to appreciate the presentation of my meal first." He leers and nudges the inside of my leg with his knee, so I open my legs once again, feeling incredibly self-conscious. But when his heated gaze locks on my core, my embarrassment fades as I feel myself getting even wetter under his regard. I think I may be very close to confirming the existence of spontaneous human combustion.

"Fuck this shirt," he says as he gives up on taking it off properly and gives it a yank, sending buttons popping off. He grins at me deviously as he rips the once expensive garment from his shoulders and drops it carelessly in the floor. Then, he practically dives between my thighs.

XXXXXXXXXX

I am completely sated and exactly where I want to be - lying in Christian's bed with his arms around me as we lie still in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

He always holds me from behind and I suspect that has to do with his fear of being touched. That makes me sad, but it no longer feels like he's rejecting me. I believed him when he said it had nothing to do with me, although I still hope that one day he'll allow me to show him some affection.

_So, you're just going to let his sexpertise distract you again?_

Great, she's back. And the fact that she's absolutely right makes matters even worse. It's the last thing I want to do right now, but I have to address Christian's stalker tendencies. Okay… here goes.

"I'm surprised we didn't have a big fight as soon as I walked in."

Christian sweeps my hair out of the way and bites me gently on the back of my neck, then follows it up with a soft kiss.

"You'd fight with your Dom?" he asks in a deep seductive voice, yet there is definitely a trace of humor in his tone. "You know you're not supposed to do that, don't you?"

Maybe it was best that I waited until after sex. He's always much easier to deal with when he's not sexually frustrated.

"I'm afraid I don't understand all your rules, Mr. Grey," I reply, trying and failing to keep the smile from my voice.

_Don't let him distract you with the sweet, sexy teasing either_, my subconscious warns. 

"My rules are extremely straight forward, Miss Steele." He sounds much more serious now. "You're the one who makes them more complicated than they need to be. Truth be told, I should have given you a good hard spanking the instant you showed your beautiful face in this evening."

For some unknown reason, his words send a thrill through me. Why does it make me so hot when he threatens to spank me?

"Why didn't you?" I ask. My voice sounds a bit breathy to my ears.

Suddenly, I am lying beneath Christian and he's holding both of my wrists above my head, clasped in just one of his large hands. He closes his eyes and rubs his nose against mine.

"You distracted me," he says. "I sometimes wonder if you're not a witch."

_I distracted him?_

"So, you're not mad?" I whisper. If I'm being honest with myself, it is his anger that scares me the most.

"Mad about what exactly?" he asks with a smirk. "You've defied me so often over the past week that I've almost lost count of your specific sins. Why don't you remind me," he challenges.

Oh no, he's not getting away with this. I'm not the bad guy here. This is something I need to stand firm on.

"I wasn't trying to defy you," I frown. "But you can't constantly stalk me, Christian. You say these relationships are built on trust, yet you don't seem to trust me at all."

He frowns back at me and part of me is really disappointed that I've forced this conversation in such a serious direction. Things were going so well a minute ago.

"I trust you," he says a bit defensively. "I just need to know you're safe, Anastasia. I am a very controlling man; it's how I deal with life. It is how I've built my empire. I'm not making any apologies for that. You just need to learn to manage my expectations and stop arguing with me about every little detail. Things will go so much more smoothly between us once you stop being so stubborn and allow me to have my control."

No apologies, huh? Well, that's not going to fly.

"Christian, you sent the Secret Service to my stepdad's house."

"The Secret Service," he repeats back dryly. "Don't be so dramatic. It was a necessary security measure."

"He was wearing a black suit."

Christian smirks at me in that infuriatingly smug way that makes me want to punch him. But I can't, of course, seeing as how he's restraining my fists at the moment.

"What would you prefer he wear, Miss Steele? By all means, I'll alter the dress code of my entire staff if that's what it takes to make you see reason."

"Make _me_ see reason!" I sputter. "Are you serious? You actually think any of this is reasonable? Who is this Leila person, Christian? If she's so dangerous, I have the right to know more about her. I don't even know what she looks like. I could protect myself if I knew who I was supposed to be looking out for. Or is she a martial arts expert of some sort?"

Christian stares at me with flinty gray eyes and I have to force myself not to blink or look away. Briefly, he increases his grip on my wrists and I feel uneasy, but he abruptly lets me go and sits up.

"This is what I mean, Anastasia," he says in the voice I've come to think of as his 'lecturing tone'. "You don't take your own safety seriously at all. It's like a joke to you. You need me to look after you."

"I'm not helpless. I can take care of myself. I've made it almost twenty-two years on this earth without dying or losing a limb, _and_ I also managed to keep my virginity all that time as well."

"I don't see how with the crazy chances you take. Sawyer told me you tried to ditch him on the highway."

Of course he did.

"I was testing a theory, Christian. I had to know if he was simply going back to Seattle as well, or if he'd been instructed to tail me like I was some sort of criminal! You don't tell me these things. I have to work them out on my own. And stop avoiding the subject, Grey. If this ex-sub of yours is such a danger to me, I want to know something about her."

Christian stands and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. I refuse to be distracted by the sight his perfectly toned body presents.

"What do you want to know, Anastasia?" he groans.

"What does she look like?"

"I'll show you a photo," he snaps impatiently. He _really_ doesn't want to talk about this.

"Why do you think she's dangerous to me?" I persist. "You said she had a picture of us. Did she threaten me?"

"No, not specifically," he admits with a sigh. "But she's clearly unstable, Ana. The girl sliced her own arm open! Doesn't that concern you at all?"

I guess it should, but I've never met this girl. Why would she want to hurt me?

"Why would she care about me at all, Christian? You said it had been years since you were with her. Am I the only sub you've had since?"

"No," he replies. He _definitely_ doesn't want to talk about this. "There have been others," he admits, "but you're the only one I've been seen in public with."

I stare at him blankly. What does that mean? Is he saying this girl was just waiting in the wings, a danger to anyone he dared to be seen with?

"She wanted _more_, Ana. I wasn't interested in that with her, so she found someone who was, and I thought everything was well with her. In fact, I've had no contact with her since. But, for some reason, she's left her husband and she's come back here. I honestly don't know why, but I suspect her resurfacing has something to do with you."

"With me?"

"Yes! Are you deliberately being blind about this? I was photographed with you, Ana. I've taken you out. You've met my family." He's saying each word very deliberately. His frustration with me is clear. "I'm giving her what she thought she wanted from me! I'm giving _you_ more. She wanted to know why, okay?! She wanted to know why it's you and not her."

_Actually, I'd like to know that myself. _

Christian closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. When he opens them again, he looks haunted. I feel terrible. It's like he's right back in the same mood he was in when I got here. But, I'm just trying to understand!

"Ana, please," he says softly. "I don't want to fight with you. I will show you a photograph of Leila, but you will still be under tight security until this is resolved. Accept it. I'm considering the subject closed. So, stop the pointless arguing. You, Miss Steele, are quite possibly _the worst_ sub in the history of the universe," he adds with a frustrated groan.

"I don't want to be," I say in a low voice, dropping my gaze to my hands. His observation really hurt. I do want to please him, but I also want to understand what's going on. Why does that seem so unreasonable to him? And why can't I manage to just stop fighting and be what he wants? Sometimes I'm not sure which of us is more stubborn.

Christian draws me up from where I sit on the edge of the bed and tips my chin up with one finger. He's smiling gently at me now.

"Perhaps I'm not as skilled a Dom as I thought I was," he admits. "After all, I'm the one with experience. It is my job to show you the ropes, so to speak," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. I know he is talking about literal rope now. "Let's take a shower then we'll have some dinner. After that, we are far overdue for a session in the playroom. I may yet set your adorable backside on fire for that smart mouth of yours."

His threat just shoots straight to my groin. He doesn't actually seem angry with me now. It is most definitely a sensual threat, and that is the type of threat I can _most definitely_ deal with.


	18. Chapter 18

The tradition of waking up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and the far away sounds of piano music seems to be holding. But, this time Christian did lie down to go to sleep with me instead of going to his own bed. I'll consider that a victory. Then again, maybe he was just exhausted. The playroom session we had earlier was beyond mind blowing and I was so wiped that I barely remember us lying down to sleep.

Once again, he quizzed me on the safe words before we started and it made me a bit nervous to think I might actually need them. Thankfully, I didn't. As threatened, there was spanking involved, but it was only with his hand and it all felt like a game rather than an actual punishment. I've started to accept that I enjoy the spankings, but the thought of actual punishment still scares me. However I may be able to relax my worries a bit, because Christian seems to be much easier going these days. Maybe this boyfriend thing is making punishment seem less exciting?

I get up and put on an expensive blue silk nightgown and matching panties from the drawer full of lingerie Christian purchased for me. I suppose it won't hurt me to follow the contract and wear those things while I'm here on weekends. If he's trying harder to be the boyfriend, I suppose I can try harder to be the sub.

As I walk down the steps I'm struck by the melancholy tune he is playing. He must have slipped back into his mood. I hope the worry he's displaying over his ex-sub is not something I should be concerned about. He says he never wanted 'more' with her, but he seems awfully obsessed with this situation. Surely he can't be that worried that she's going to somehow get to me.

Christian is sitting at the piano wearing only his pajama bottoms and he looks impossibly sad and, as always, beautiful. I try to be quiet, but he senses my approach, stops playing, and looks up.

"You don't have to stop," I say. "I wasn't trying to interrupt."

Christian frowns apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you with my playing."

"You didn't. I just missed having you beside me."

My remark was not meant to make him appear even sadder, but somehow it did. Now he is staring at me like he's lost in thought. Christian's mood is very strange.

"You look lovely in that nightgown," he finally says. "It brings out your eyes."

"Thank you, my boyfriend bought it for me. He's very generous and extremely handsome. You should meet him."

Christian smiles. Thank goodness! His melancholy was beginning to rub off on me.

I sit on the bench beside him and press a quick kiss against his bare bicep.

"Play something cheerful," I say. "That other piece was beautiful, but way to sad. I want to hear something entertaining."

Christian raises a brow at me and smirks. Almost immediately his fingers begin flying across the keys. The speed of the piece and the completely different style remind me of how talented he is. This tune is definitely upbeat and very familiar, although I'm not enough of a music connoisseur to place it.

I clap softly in appreciation. "Bravo, Mr. Grey. That was much happier. What was that? I know I've heard it before."

"I'm sure you have. It's Scott Joplin's classic ragtime tune, _The Entertainer_. You did ask for something entertaining," he adds with a wink. "We aim to please."

"That you do," I confirm with a smile. "You've been very accommodating since I've been back and surprisingly reasonable. I'm so happy you weren't upset about my friends coming to Dad's Thursday night. To be honest, I expected a thermonuclear meltdown over it."

Christian is now watching me with curious eyes. _Uh oh_, maybe I should have left well enough alone. No use dragging up things that could bring Fifty Shades out to play.

"Which friends?" he asks carefully.

Holy crap! Sawyer didn't tell him? I honestly thought he'd given Fifty the complete lowdown, possibly with photographs and blood samples.

"Sawyer didn't tell you that I stayed in and played cards with friends on Thursday night?" I ask.

"He told me you stayed in as instructed. There was no mention of any guests coming over."

"Guess he didn't think it was important," I remark with a shrug, trying my best to remain casual, even though my heart is now thumping along at a million miles per hour. "I just assumed you'd disapprove of me having people over. One of my high school friends could have been a crazy ex-sub in disguise," I attempt to joke.

"That's not funny, Anastasia. Which friends?" he asks again. That deadly calm tone is in his voice. The deadly calm that means he's anything but calm.

"Just some people I graduated high school with… Sarah Boaz and her boyfriend Danny Bowers. Well actually, I think he's technically her fiancé now, but they don't have a ring yet," I ramble. "I think they're waiting until they can afford a really nice-,"

"_Ana,"_ he interrupts. "I have a feeling you're avoiding something."

He's onto me. The man is very hard to distract once he gets his teeth into something. I may as well spill.

"My friend Matt Carroll came too," I state bluntly. "You remember Matt from the bowling alley, I'm sure. I just assumed Sawyer told you all about it."

Christian's eyes are almost black now – never a good sign. "Sawyer is new, he's not as well versed on what I consider a threat as he should be. I'll be sure to enlighten him."

The ice in his voice should make me feel sorry for Sawyer, but I have myself to worry about right now.

"Ana, you promised me." His voice is very deliberate.

"I was under constant supervision," I argue in my defense. "_Nothing_ happened. You can ask Sawyer yourself."

"I very much intend to," he assures me. "But that's not the point. I made it very clear that you were to discuss it with me first_ before_ you spent time with another man."

"I wasn't spending time with another man. Not really. Not the way you make it sound. He's just a friend, Christian! Nothing more. Do you really think I'd cheat on you? And right in front of your hired man, no less? Don't you trust me?"

"That's not the point," he repeats coldly. "You agreed that you'd discuss these things with me. You knew the consequences."

"What would you have said if I had discussed it with you? I'm thinking a big fat 'no' would have been in order."

I'm getting angry now. Of course he would have said 'no'. _Discuss_ is so not the proper word for such a conversation.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Ana. You're right. It's very likely I would have said 'no'," he agrees. "I don't like other men sniffing around you. You know this, and if you think sneaking around behind my back is the answer to that problem, you are very much mistaken."

"Christian, I wasn't sneaking," I insist. "Sawyer was _right there._ I honestly thought you knew!"

Christian stands up from the piano bench and I immediately scramble up myself and put a few steps between us. He's in that tall, straight, looming-over-me position again. The one that makes me really nervous and sometimes excited.

"What did I say I'd do if you spent time with another man without informing me first?" he asks way too softly.

"Christian, I didn't know you meant that so literally. I wasn't trying to hide it, or I wouldn't have done it right in front of someone who works for you. I'm not an idiot."

"Didn't you try to hide it? Because I'm not so sure I buy that, Ana. Are you going to stand there and tell me that it didn't cross your mind that I might want to know about the situation beforehand?"

I swallow hard. Yes, of course I knew, but I was so irritated with him at the time and that rule is so ridiculous - I wasn't doing anything wrong! But he does have a point about the agreement, so I decide to go for contrition.

"I'm sorry, Christian," I say sincerely. "It won't happen again."

He raises a brow at me. "I don't imagine it will. In fact, I intend to make sure that you think twice in the future."

"What are you going to do to me?" I squeak out. My throat is suddenly very dry.

"I'm going to punish you, Anastasia," he says with a smirk. "You know that."

"What if I won't let you?"

Christian looks thrown for a moment. He frowns at me and cocks his head sideways, obviously planning his next step. "You can't keep doing that," he finally says. "I gave you my terms, you agreed, and I intend to follow through. Did you lie to me when you signed the contract, Anastasia? Did you think _I_ was lying when I said I'd warn first, punish second?"

"No, but…" I trail off, unable to come up with a good defense under such intense pressure.

Christian shakes his head slowly, his eyes are glowing with obvious excitement. "No buts, Ana. The deal was very simple, very straightforward. I believe you need to go to the playroom and wait for me."

Crap! What do I do?

"But I'm afraid you're going to hurt me," I admit, hoping he'll take some pity on me.

"I am going to hurt you," he says flatly. "It's a punishment, Ana. There will be pain, it's not meant to be pleasant. But I don't intend to actually harm you or push you beyond your limits. I feel like I've told you this a thousand times, yet you don't seem to trust or believe me. This will never work if you don't trust me. That's how it has to be."

He's throwing down the gauntlet; this is how it has to be. It's what he wants, what he needs. He has told me this over and over again. He's right, I can't avoid punishments forever and expect this to work between us. I have to face the music, else I'll never know if I can be the person he needs me to be.

"Okay," I say softly. "I'll be in the playroom."

He gasps. I believe he expected more arguments. His eyes burn into mine with something I'm not sure I want to name. "I'll be with you shortly," he assures me, a slight smile on his lips.

He really wants this and I _really_ don't. Then, suddenly, it hits me. I need to know if the punishments are as bad as I fear they will be. I can't keep worrying about them. If I do, I'll end up with an ulcer. So, I take a deep breath and lay down my terms.

"You have to rip off the band aid, Christian. I have to know what I'm in for. No more baby steps. I need to know how bad it can get."

He crinkles his brow and looks at me uncertainly for a moment. I can tell he's the one who is unsure now.

"Ana, I'm not certain that's wise. These relationships are built on trust. In order for that to happen, I need to introduce you to the harsher punishments gradually. That way you'll be in the right mindset. You'll know I won't actually harm you or ever push you too far. You can't learn to swim by jumping into the deep end of the pool. We must build trust slowly."

_Slowly break you down is more like it_, my subconscious whispers. _If the lights are dimmed gradually enough, you won't notice when it's finally pitch dark. And by then it will be far too late…_

She's not being sarcastic or snarky this time. She's dead serious. Part of me is afraid she's knows exactly what she is talking about. That's why I must know.

"I need to know, Christian," I repeat, trying to keep my voice steady and confident. "I constantly worry about the harsher punishments, yet you say the fear is mostly in my head. I need to know which it is - once and for all."

"Fair point, well made, Miss Steele… as always," he concedes after a long pause. He looks determined, like he's made up his mind. "I will meet you upstairs. I'll expect you to be in the usual position."

As I turn and head toward the stairs I feel like I am only halfway there emotionally. I'm trying very hard not to think ahead to what is coming. If I think too much about it, I'm afraid I may run, and I can't do that. I _have_ to do this. It's the elephant in the room, and the longer I put it off the harder it will be to leave if I find I can't handle it. I need to know. He needs to know. We can't delay any longer.

Almost mechanically, I head to my bedroom, slip the silk nightgown over my head, and lay it neatly on the bed. I grab the thick robe I wore earlier off the hook on the back of the door and slip it on. I'm not walking to the playroom wearing only my panties. I'd die if Taylor or Mrs. Jones happened to see me. I'll take it off when I get in there. Surely that will be good enough.

It's as if all of my senses are heightened. I can hear the air whooshing softly through the ventilation system, a clock ticking somewhere in the apartment, my own breathing, and I almost swear I can even hear the electricity running behind the walls. This must be what a prey animal feels like. Their senses are sharper because they must know when a predator is near - so that they can run quickly in the other direction. The difference here is that I am heading straight toward the predator, straight into the lion's den so to speak.

My mind is made up though. I have to do this. No matter how much it terrifies me. I have to know before I get myself even deeper into something I may not be able to cope with. Better now than six months from now. By then I may be too desperately in love to make a rational decision. In fact, I may already be at that point already. What rational person calmly accepts a beating they don't want?

The playroom is still unlocked from our earlier session. I suppose he doesn't keep it locked on weekends, it's much more convenient to give out a punishment that way.

Very slowly, I slip off the robe and hang it on the hook on the back of the door. Then I assume the position, kneeling down by the doorway, legs spread, hands flat on my thighs, head bowed. I'm still on autopilot for now, but I hope he won't make me wait very long this time. I'm afraid if he does, I won't make it. I'll run.

As usual, it's like he's reading my thoughts. I've barely settled into my spot when the door swings open. In walks Christian. I can hear a slight clinking, which makes me think he's selected something off his torture wrack of whips and paddles. I wonder what it will be.

His feet are bare, I can tell by the softness of his footfalls as he walks across the polished wood floor. When he comes to stand in front of me, I can see the tops of his feet and know that he is still wearing his pajama bottoms and not the ripped jeans he usually wears in here. That's different. Of course, I'm thinking everything about this session will be different.

"Why are we in here, Anastasia?" he asks. His voice is deep and hard, yet quiet and evenly pitched.

Here goes… "Because I was hanging around with another man without asking you first."

"And what did I say I would do if you ever did that again?"

Can't he just get this over with? I think my heart has migrated north and is currently trying to pound its way through the top of my skull.

"You said you'd punish me," I say softly.

"I did," he agrees. "And we're here to prove to you that I am a man of my word. You can't continue to defy me and expect me not to follow through, Anastasia. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," I murmur.

"Good. Now, stand up."

My legs are shaking, but I force myself to my feet, being careful to keep my head bowed. No point in tempting fate further.

"I want you to see what I'm holding," he says. "You may lift your head."

I raise my gaze to see one of the more terrifying implements from his collection. It looks a bit like the flogger, but I know that the strands on this one are not soft. I've examined it before. These strands are rawhide leather and each ends in a small knot.

"This is the cat of nine tails," Christian explains softly, "although normally I simply refer to it as _the cat_. This is as severe as it will get for you. The cane is harsher, but that is one of your hard limits, and I will never violate your hard limits. This is consensual. You know that, don't you, Anastasia?"

"Yes, sir," I somehow manage to force out. Damn that thing looks scary. It reminds me of a medieval torture device or something a Roman soldier would use to beat a slave.

He points to the red leather bench. "Go kneel over the bench," he orders calmly.

Somehow I force my legs to work enough to carry me across the room and then I kneel carefully over the bench. I realize this puts my backside in the perfect position to receive whatever punishment he sees fit to deliver. Of course it does, I suppose that's the whole point. I can sense him standing behind me and hold my breath, waiting for the first blow.

"You must know that I am a man of my word, Anastasia," he says. "A Dom does not waffle when handing out punishments. You'll never respect me as your master if I do."

I don't know what to say, or if I'm even supposed to say anything. I just want this over and done with before I lose my nerve.

I flinch when I feel him touch my backside, but it is just his hand and it's gentle. He runs it slowly across both cheeks on the outside of my panties. His heavy breathing clearly betrays his excitement. I am about to beg him to get on with it, when I feel him slowly peeling my panties down. He doesn't take them all the way off, but leaves them in place just above my knees. It's more intimate and humiliating this way for some reason, and I wonder if that's why he's doing it.

"Will you be sneaking around behind my back with more boys?" he asks. There is a hard edge to his voice.

I have major issues with the word 'sneaking', but I am quite literally in no position to argue. "No, sir," I reply instead.

"I will give you seven strokes," he continues. "You don't have to count this time."

I hold my breath when I hear the whooshing sound made by him drawing back the cat. When it hits me, the leather throngs make a loud snapping noise and each one bites into my flesh with a vicious sting, like the individual bite of many tiny snakes. I don't know if I can do six more of these. Maybe the first one is the worst, I think hopefully.

Very quickly the first stroke is followed by another and this one hurts worse, if that's possible. I do believe that he is truly showing me how bad it can be, because I can't imagine him being able to hit me any harder.

I don't want to cry, but by the third lash, tears are flowing out of the corners of my eyes. His breathing has become harsher, more excited, and it both enrages and terrifies me that he is apparently getting off on this.

When the fourth one hits, I cry out against my will, "Christian, please."

"I'm your master in here, Anastasia. Mind your manners," he commands coldly and then hits me with a fourth stroke.

I believe that one was harder than the other three. I can't take this anymore. I'm beginning to panic. What do I do? I can't think straight, I just want this to end. My mind is scrambling to form a single coherent thought.

"Stop," I sob out, but he still follows through with the fifth lash. I'm practically choking on my tears at this point. My God, he's not going to stop! I wonder if he'll even quit once he reaches seven. I'm utterly terrified. I don't know this man at all.

When the cat hits me for the sixth time, something clicks in my fogged brain.

"_RED!"_ I scream.

The seventh stroke doesn't fall, although I still expected it too. It is like the word 'red' is magical, because his arm immediately stops, mid swing. I can hear the cat clattering to the floor across the room. I'm sure he must have let it go, so that the momentum wouldn't bring it forward into my flesh again.

"Ana, baby," he says breathlessly. "You did so well. Are you okay?" He rubs his large hand gently across the small of my back and I'm literally frozen in place. But when I feel him wrap his hands around my waist and try to pull me back into his arms, my limbs begin to work again. The last thing I want is his affection right now.

I struggle against him, throwing elbows blindly behind me. "Let me go!" I scream. I continue to struggle for a second or two more before he finally realizes I don't want him touching me. At that point, he lets me go suddenly and I stumble forward, grabbing onto the bench for balance.

"Ana," he gasps, sounding puzzled. "My God, are you okay?"

He sounds like he actually gives a damn, which fills me with more anger than I thought it possible to feel. How dare he act concerned about me now.

I reach down and jerk my underwear back up into place. It burns when the panties touch my abused flesh, but I barely notice. I whirl around to look at him in absolute rage and disbelief.

"Do I look okay?!" I yell at him through my sobs. "That's a fucking stupid question!"

He takes a step toward me and I back away, holding my hands up in front of me like a shield. "Don't touch me, Christian."

He looks hurt and puzzled, like I've slapped him. The irony is bitter.

"I stopped when you safe worded," he says, his eyes wide with bewilderment. "You should have safe worded earlier if things were too much for you. I would have stopped."

"Christian, I begged you to stop! I was crying my eyes out and you _still_ kept beating on me. If you needed that stupid safe word to tell you that you needed to stop, then you are one sick, sadistic son of a bitch!"

"Ana," he gasps, horrified. He doesn't move from where he's standing when I go to retrieve the robe and wrap it tightly around my body, and he's still standing frozen in exactly in the same spot when I exit the playroom. I have to get out of here, now.

I head downstairs, moving fast despite my aching backside. I'm almost afraid to see it. He hit me so hard.

When I get to his bedroom, I realize I haven't been followed, so I pull up the hem of my bathrobe and pull my panties aside to chance a look at my injuries. It's actually not as bad as I thought it would be. There are angry red welts, but no broken skin. There will be no permanent marks or scars… at least not visible ones. The ones on my heart and soul are a whole other story. I wasn't aware that anything could hurt this much. Actually, the burning of my backside is a welcome distraction.

This is too dark for me. His needs are too extreme, his expectations way too foreign to me. No matter what I feel for him, I know I can no longer stay here. He doesn't love me. He couldn't love me. A person who loved me would have stopped the moment my first tear fell.

I can barely breathe or think, I'm sobbing so hard, but I finally do manage to find my suitcase. Someone has tucked it away inside Christian's huge walk-in closet. I reach in and grab the first pair of jeans, bra and t-shirt I lay my hands on. I so desperately need to get out of here before Christian comes looking for me. I don't think I can face him again. It would hurt too much.

As I finish pulling on my clothes and stuff my sockless feet into my sneakers, my sobbing finally ceases and a numb calm comes over me.

I remember asking Mom once how she did it when my father died. How did she take care of a day-old infant in the midst of such tragedy? She said she was able to do it because she had to. I can hear her voice now.

"_You needed me, Ana. It's amazing what you can do when you have no other choice."_

Finally, I think I sort of understand what she was talking about. I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, my tragedy is nothing, but it is the worst thing I have ever experienced. I can't imagine feeling any more broken than I do at this moment. The pain is so intense that I feel a bit disconnected from it, yet I find that – incredibly - I can still put one foot in front of the other and do what needs to be done.

With that goal in mind, I zip my bag back up and I grab my purse. I don't look for my laptop, because it's not mine and I'm certainly not driving the Audi, so I remove the keys from my purse and set them on Christian's bedside table. The car isn't mine anymore either. It never was, not really. I'll think about finding a cab once I get in the elevator. Right now, I just need to put some distance between myself and this place.

When I turn around, ready to leave the room, Christian is standing in the doorway. I let out a small cry and almost jump out of my skin. He is so quiet. I wonder how long he's been standing there.

He looks older, paler, and it's probably just me projecting my own feelings, but right now he looks like the most miserable human being on earth.

"I'm sorry, Ana," he says softly. "I didn't mean to startle you." He's still standing there, blocking the doorway, but I'm a bit surprised to realize I'm not afraid of him. I suppose I feel that he's done his worst and I survived, so what else do I have to fear?

"I should have stopped," he says sadly.

"Yes, you should have. Please let me get by, Christian." I'm shocked by the polite calmness of my tone.

"I just need you to understand why I didn't," he says. He's pleading at me with his eyes, so I stand still waiting expectantly for him to explain the unexplainable.

"Subs often cry," he says and I gasp in horror. "You have to understand they _want_ to cry," he adds hurriedly. "It's all part of the fantasy for them. Sometimes they even plead for me to stop, but we both know I won't unless they safe word. That's why there's a specific safe word and why I've insisted that you remember it. It's so the Dom knows when the sub really wants the punishment to stop. I stopped immediately when you safe worded," he defends in a pleading tone. "I promised you I would."

My God. I stand staring at him with an open mouth as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. This man really has no idea how things work in the real world. Fucking Mrs. Robinson - she did this to him. She's made him into a man who can never love and has absolutely no empathy for another human being's pain.

"Why didn't you safe word earlier?" he asks. "Why, Ana?"

"I'm not a real sub, Christian," I state in exasperation. I'm too heartbroken and numb to actually be angry anymore though. He just looks bewildered, of course. He doesn't get it. I may as well be speaking Greek. "I only signed the contract because it was the only way to be with you. But I can't do it. I panicked, I forgot the safe word. And I was naïve and stupid enough to think you'd stop when I asked you to, because that's what I expect from a relationship," I explain with a resigned sigh.

He looks at me with renewed hope in his eyes. "From now on I'll stop if you say so - safe word or no safe word. I give you my word, Ana. All you have to do is ask me to stop. You don't have to leave."

Christian really does look desperate and broken, but I can't let that sway me.

"That's not the point, Christian. I expect you to care if I'm hurt and for you to want it to stop without me having to ask you. We're too different. Please move out of the way. Let me by," I ask again. I'm still managing to appear calm and hold it together, but just barely, and I know I won't hold up long under this line of conversation.

Christian shakes his head stubbornly. "No, you can't leave. You have to give me time to consider your request. It's part of the contract."

He's really grasping at straws now. I don't even know what to say. His need to control is absolutely epic.

"You can consider it all you want, Christian, but I'm still leaving." I start walking forward. "Move out of my way, please."

He steps aside, clearly stunned, but reaches for my arm as I walk past him.

"No," I say firmly. I have to choke the word past the huge lump in my throat. "Don't touch me. I just need the money you got for my car and then I'm leaving."

"You won't even give me a chance to discuss this?" he asks. There's anger in his voice now, but I resolve to stay as calm as possible. If I don't, I'll have a complete breakdown.

"There's nothing to discuss. Just give me whatever Taylor got for selling my Beatle and then I'm leaving."

"But how will you get home?" He sounds like someone on the verge of panic.

"I'll call a cab."

"Ana, please," he pleads. "You're so upset right now; I can't let you leave like this. I don't want you to go. Baby, _please._ We can work this out."

"Do you enjoy the idea of causing pain?" I ask him. Unwelcome tears begin to stream down my face again as I say the words.

His face falls. He looks utterly hopeless. That's the only answer I need.

"Ana, please let me comfort you," he begs instead of answering my question. He takes a cautious step toward me. "I can fix this. Just give me a chance. You need to take some Advil, and I have some cream that will take the burn away. You have to believe that I want you to be okay. I promise there will be no marks, by morning you'll barely know it ever happened. I'd never really hurt you, Ana."

I'm sobbing again, despite my vow to hold it together until I get out of here. "No, Christian," I say as I step out of his reach. "Advil and cream can't fix this pain. Give me my money so I can leave!" I yell. "I need to go!"

He looks so utterly lost that it makes me cry even harder. Poor Christian, he's so fucked up. He can't love anyone. I don't believe he's capable. I should have listened when he told me he had no heart to give. But at least now I know for sure. I won't have to wonder.

"I'll give you the money, if you let Taylor take you home," he says.

"Fine," I agree. I'm too tired to argue with him anymore. I just need to get the hell out of here any way I can.

Christian walks past me and I follow, he's heading toward his study. I take one last look around while I wait. I'll never be here again. I'll never be in Christian's arms again. This is it. I can't believe it. I try to commit as much of it to memory as possible, hoping maybe someday, I'll be able to call those memories up without crippling pain.

When Christian comes back out he's carrying an envelope. "I wrote you a check," he says. I can tell he's trying very hard to stay calm. "I don't keep that sort of cash on hand. Taylor got a very good price for your car. You can ask him."

He looks over my shoulder and Taylor is standing by the doorway looking as professional as always in his suit and tie. Christian must have called him from the study.

"It was a collector's item, Miss Steele," he tells me. He sounds more somber than usual, but he doesn't make any inquiries as to my distraught appearance. "I'll go bring the car around," he says with a polite nod and then turns to leave.

I turn back toward Christian who is still standing with the envelope in his hand looking like he can't quite believe what is happening.

"I wish you'd take the Audi," he says.

"It's not mine, Christian." I hold out my hand expectantly and finally he hands over the envelope.

"Take the money," he says. "It's rightfully yours from the sale of your car. But the Audi was a gift, Anastasia. I insist you keep it. I don't want it. I want you to have it. I'll have Taylor bring it by tomorrow. I don't want you driving while you're so upset."

I shake my head. "No, I don't want it. If you have it delivered, I will have it towed off. Don't waste your time. Give it to charity or something."

"Ana, are you trying to be cruel?"

Funny he should ask such a question of me. "No, Christian, that's not how I get my kicks."

He gasps in horror at my words and I feel a stabbing flash of guilt. I'm not leaving the car to be cruel, but what I said was definitely intended to sting. I suppose it really is time for me to go. All we have left between us is anger and pain.

"Goodbye, Christian," I say as I turn and head toward the elevator with nothing but my personal suitcase and my purse in tow. This time he lets me walk away.

XXXXXXXX

A/N: Ouch! Believe me, I know. It was honestly hard emotionally to write this. I realize this was similar to what happened at the end of book one, but I did try to give a new twist. Personally, I believe they always had to come to this point in order for Christian to have a revelation. I do plan on continuing this in another story, although I'm not sure how far I'll go. I don't think I want to completely rewrite book 2, but there are things I would like to accomplish. I'm also taking some time to think about POV. I've thought about switching to Christian's POV for the second story or possibly doing alternating POV. I could stick with just Ana's like the books, but I think some Christian POV would be interesting and challenging to do as well. What do you think? Or perhaps I should run and hide for a while?


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I've decided to continue on in this story since this site does not have a feature for dealing with series (wish they did). The only reason I was going to start a new story was because I wanted to switch POVs and thought it might be weird to do that mid-story. But, to heck with it, this is fanfic and it's supposed to be fun. I'm not going to worry about a bunch of so-called rules, especially since CG has enough rules to go around.

Thanks so very much for the support. If I didn't respond personally to your review, I am truly sorry for the oversight.

This chapter is in Christian's POV. Please forgive me for any mistakes as I try to find my footing with his voice. Fair warning, he's wallowing in a pit of self-pity and despair. Yep, he's an angsty, angsty, angst-filled emo who just may have to start rocking the black nail polish and white face paint.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ana is gone. She left me.

I'm not surprised. Not really. I always expected it. On some level I knew it was only a matter of time before she came to her senses and ran for the hills.

Why should she have stayed here with me? She is a beautiful woman with a great deal to offer. While I, myself, have exactly three things to offer her: I'm considered handsome, I have an obscene fortune, and – thanks to Elena – I know essentially everything there is to know about pleasing a woman sexually.

A pretty face will only get you so far in life, although I've noted that it gets most people way farther than they deserve.

Money, on the other hand, can generally get a person very far indeed. Ana, however, seems less motivated by it than most. I believe that trait is part of what drew me to her, which is unfortunate for me, since it is the most powerful weapon in my arsenal.

And the sexual prowess? Well, apparently, that's not everything either. It was certainly not enough to keep a girl like Ana tied to a deviant like me.

I am at a complete loss. I honestly have no idea what to do with myself. I can't seem to concentrate on anything, aside from the huge gaping hole inside of me. That hole has always been there, but Elena taught me how to compensate for it and how to channel my frustrations into more fruitful pursuits. Once I became an adult, I was barely even aware of its existence… _during my waking hours, at least._ Somehow, Ana seemed to fill it and the odd thing is that I didn't fully realize it until she was gone. Now that she is gone that hole is, once again, noticeable - even more noticeable than it was before. Part of me believes I would have been better off if I had never met her. At least I wouldn't know what I was missing.

Earlier this morning I had the issue of Ana's security to distract me from my misery. I had to put some measures in place to ensure she was safe from my legacy – which is sadly, the very mentally disturbed Leila.

Ana's building is now under surveillance and all comings and goings are being monitored for any sign of my former sub. Now that her security is assured, I have nothing to distract me from my pain or my anger. For the millionth time, I wonder why she didn't just inform me ahead of time about the boy's visit. We could have avoided all of this if she had followed a simple rule for once in her life. It was as if she wanted me to be pissed at her. I'm so angry!

And what is the great and powerful CEO, Christian Grey, doing about that anger?

Getting drunk like a pathetic, weak loser. Something I haven't done since I was fifteen years old.

Perhaps I should call Elena? She was the one person who knew how to deal with that side of me. She also succeeded in becoming a Dom, where I didn't. Sure, I believed I was a master of domination, but all of those girls were already established submissives well before they signed on with me. When it came to introducing someone new to the life, I proved that I am nowhere near as powerful as I once believed myself to be. Perhaps it's time I speak with someone who actually knows what the fuck they're doing. If I'd only taken her help when she first offered it, I may not be in this situation.

The phone only rings twice before Elena answers. She sounds pleased to hear from me. That's a novelty as I'm sure Ana would simply hang up if I called.

"_Christian, darling, I didn't expect to hear from you on the weekend. Is everything okay?"_

I find I can't say anything. My throat has seized up. It's embarrassing.

"_Christian? Are you there? Say something. You're scaring me."_

"She left," I finally manage to squeeze out.

Elena gasps. _"That stupid little bitch! Well, she obviously didn't deserve you. Try not to be let it get to you, sweetheart, I'm sure it's for the best."_

No matter how angry I am with Ana, I don't like hearing Elena talking about her like that. She is my friend – _my only friend_ – and I suppose she is required to take my side, but it still bothers me.

"Oh, I have no doubt it was in _her_ best interests," I say with a sigh. "But, I don't know what to do," I admit with a particularly pathetic slur in my speech. "I'm at a complete loss. I haven't felt this helpless in years."

"_Christian, have you been drinking?"_

"Absolutely. I've almost polished off my second bottle of some overpriced, exclusive micro-batch of Chianti." I actually laugh a little when I say it. 'Overpriced' is a word Ana loved to toss around with that smart little mouth of hers. I'm sure she believes I have more money than sense, and she's probably right.

"_Oh, my poor Christian! What has that little tramp done to you? I'll come over at once." _

"No! Don't!" I exclaim, feeling a bit of panic at the thought. "I'm not seeing anyone right now. And please stop calling her names, Elena. I know you're only trying to make me feel better, but that isn't helping and I won't tolerate any more of it. It's not her fault I'm an absolute failure at being a Dom… and at being a boyfriend too, it seems. I probably should have allowed you to help me. I'd wager you couldn't have made things any worse." I laugh again. I must really be drunk if I'm finding any of this amusing.

"_Christian, what happened? Tell me. Perhaps it's not as hopeless as you think."_

I open my mouth and tell her everything, much more than I would ever share with Dr. Flynn. I'm too drunk to keep quiet and Elena understands my lifestyle, while Dr. Flynn only has textbook knowledge of it. Needless to say, I respect Elena's judgment in these matters over the good doctor's. There is simply no substitute for experience, besides she knows me better than anyone.

"_You allowed her dictate her own punishment?" _she asks incredulously when I'm finished reliving the nightmare.

Elena is horrified. She should be. That is a cardinal rule in the dominance game. A sub is never to dictate _anything_ outside of her pre-negotiated hard limits. It simply isn't done. Otherwise it's called topping from the bottom, and that is one thing Mrs. Lincoln cannot and will not tolerate.

"I was trying to put her mind at ease, Elena. I wanted her to know what she was getting herself into. Obviously, I was desperate… and stupid." God, I sound whiny.

"_I was afraid of something like this happening. If you were going to fall in love, you should have done so with someone who was already well acquainted with the lifestyle. Training a sub you're in love with is a tricky game, Christian. It is certainly not advisable to do so your first go around."_

Now I'm really laughing. Elena has been insisting I'm in love with Ana since the night she saw us at my parent's house. She, of all people, should know how ridiculous that notion is.

"Elena, you know that's bullshit. I can't love anyone. I'm a coldhearted bastard, remember? I'm not capable."

"_You are quite capable,"_ she scolds. _"As unfortunate as that may be."_

"Unfortunate?"

"_Yes, Christian, unfortunate. Love makes you weak. It's a fool's game. If you are unlucky enough to encounter it, you must ensure that you always keep the upper hand. That is why I urged you to be harsher with this girl than you normally are with subs. It is precisely why I offered to help you train her, even though I am not generally into doing scenes with other women. I was worried about you! I knew she was wrong for you when you told her how she felt about me. She doesn't understand us. Your only – albeit slim - hope was to be especially harsh with her. That girl needs to learn some humility."_

"I'm fairly sure I was the one wielding the cat, Elena. Is that not harsh enough?"

"_Not when she was the one who dictated the terms it isn't."_ Elena sighs, sounding deeply disappointed in me. She's not the only one. _"The only sure way to keep someone you love is to break them first," she adds quite bitterly._

Did she really just say that?

"I don't want to break Ana!" I insist. "You may think it's weak, but I actually enjoyed being the boyfriend. Maybe I'm not as big of a monster as you seem to think I should be." Now I'm getting angry with Elena too. I'm just one angry son of a bitch right now.

"_Don't be so naïve and dramatic, Christian. I wasn't suggesting you burn her with a hot poker. I'm simply stating the facts, darling. The world is a cruel place. The only way to ensure your place in it is to make sure that you always hold all the cards. I'm simply saying that you put the cart before the horse in this instance. You let your feelings rule you. You should have taken the time to tear her down and rebuild her into someone better before you took your relationship beyond the playroom. If you'd done that, you would have been able to shower the silly girl with as much affection as you wished AND she'd have been grateful to have it. Consider it a lesson learned."_

I don't know what to say. What Elena is saying horrifies me. Is that what she did to me? Tore me down and rebuilt me into someone better. I knew I was a stronger person after she found me, but the way she's making it sound terrifies me. Is that what I tried to do to Ana? Did I try to break her? The thought sickens me.

"I need to go, Elena," I say as coolly as I can manage in my drunken state. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

"_Christian, I know that tone. Don't shut me out. I realize I may sound harsh, but I'm simply stating facts. If you'll let me, I'll see if I can get through to your Ana. Although I am afraid it may be a lost cause at this point. Some people just aren't cut out for our lifestyle. Honestly, I think you're better off without her. Regardless, if she is what you want, I will try my best to help in any way I can. I'll always be here for you."_

"Stay away from her, Elena," I shout. "I'm warning you out of respect for all we've been through. If you dare go near her, I will liquidate the salons and leave you as bankrupt as I left Linc. Do you understand?"

She gasps in shock, but I don't stay on the line to hear her full reaction. I hang up and then I do something I never do – I cut off my phone.

Has Elena always been so cruel? Maybe she has. She was certainly never gentle with me, but perhaps that is what I needed - I was a seriously fucked up young man. Yet, I know for a fact that is not what Ana needs. I never want to see her broken by my hand or anyone else's.

Ana's right, she's not a real sub. She never was and she doesn't want to be one. Not really. Not outside of the playroom, anyway. I knew that, even before she told me that she only signed the contract to be with me. I just didn't want to admit it, because the implications of that make me hate myself more than I already do. They also make me want to shake Ana for being such a stupid, silly girl.

She didn't want my money, so the only reasonable explanation for her agreeing to sub for me was a girlish, romantic infatuation. She may have even gone so far as to delude herself into believing she was in love with me. The idea is appalling. My God! How could she be so stupid? And, even worse, what have I done?

I took an innocent, inexperienced girl and tricked her into feeling something for me just so I could have my way with her. I could have had my pick of many stunningly beautiful and very established submissives, yet I had to have her. That, more than anything, confirms I truly am a monster. My tiny sliver of conscience begged me to stay away from her and I didn't listen. This mess is the inevitable result. The small part of me that is not an angry, controlling bastard knows I can't blame her for any of this. This was all my doing. I'm at fault. I knew better, but I still pursued her out of my selfish and misguided feelings.

If I were any other man, I'm sure my feelings for Ana could properly be defined as 'love'. The problem is, I am not like other men and my love is like me – twisted, dark, and self-serving. That is why I tried to tell her that I didn't have a heart to give. I knew I couldn't offer her my sick, tarnished version of love. She wouldn't have understood. She would have taken it to be the real thing, the thing she deserves. Even my hypocrisy only goes so far.

There is a part of me that is screaming for me to go to her, to tell her I love her and that I will do anything to make her happy, anything to make her come back to me. I'll shred the contract. I'll forgo punishments for the rest of my life. I'll assume the sub position and let her take a cane to me if she wants.

_Anything_. Absolutely anything to stop this pain I'm feeling.

But, I can't. I suppose there is a small part of my humanity that I've salvaged somewhere along the line, thanks to my parents, no doubt. If I do love Ana with what little capacity for love I possess, I have to let her go. I have to hope that she is able to put me behind her and find the happiness that she deserves in life. And I have to find some way to go on as before.

Elena is right, this is for the best. Just not in the way she thinks. Ana should never have become involved with someone like me and she should certainly never have any further contact with my former Dom. Elena and I are cut from the same cloth, which explains why she was able to help me. But Ana is a different animal altogether. She's not like us. We would only destroy her.

XXXXXXXX

I wake up on Sunday morning with my head pounding and a horrible taste in my mouth. I'd forgotten how horrible hangovers were. If nothing else, I've confirmed that a person can get a hangover from the high-end expensive stuff. That old wives tale is now officially debunked.

It would be different if the discomfort I'm feeling was distracting in any way, but it's not. The hangover just intensifies any existing misery, and I am miserable enough as it is without the added help of a queasy stomach.

As I lift my pounding head to survey my surroundings, I realize I am in Ana's room. _Ana's former room, _an inner voice reminds me_. _

I vaguely remember stumbling in here last night. I was drunk and apparently set upon torturing myself, so I went to the very place where I was sure her scent would linger, wrapped myself around her empty nightgown, and passed out. At least now I finally understand all the sappy love songs I used to sneer at. This really is a unique form of misery. There is nothing quite like it.

I broke another of my rules last night when I drank two bottles of wine without eating anything. Now I'm paying for it. Thankfully, I managed to make it to the toilet just in time. Mrs. Jones certainly does not deserve to clean up my vomit, especially after I yelled at her last night when she tried to fix my dinner. I'm fairly sure I yelled at Taylor too when he came to see what the fuss was all about, but it's all a bit hazy.

I regret making such an ass of myself, but what the hell was she doing in the main kitchen to begin with? She's supposed to be off on weekends. I don't need her mothering or her pity. Surely I pay her and Taylor enough to leave me the fuck alone.

As I dry heave, I realize that even this humiliating act reminds me of Ana. It reminds of the night I found her sick in the parking lot of that bar. If I wasn't currently busy dying, I would laugh at myself. It is truly sad when you can't puke your guts up without thinking of a girl. Just when I thought I'd gotten as low as I could possibly get, I've reset the entire scale. Someone should really write a country song.

I am seriously considering just sitting here in the bathroom floor all day when I hear a knock at the door and a polite and professional "Excuse me, Mr. Grey," from Taylor. The problem is that the door is wide open since I was in such a desperate rush to get in here, so his formality is oddly out of place. Thank God I hired staff with enough manners to pretend they don't notice this shit.

"Mr. Grey," he says again. "You have a visitor."

"The hell?" I manage to rasp out through my raw throat. "Tell them to fuck off, Taylor. Do I look like I'm in the mood to entertain?"

It had better not be Elena. I really and truly cannot deal with her right now. Seeing her would be too much like looking in the mirror, which is something I don't plan on doing if I can possibly avoid it.

"It's Dr. Flynn," Taylor announces casually.

The son of a bitch obviously called my shrink to "tell on me" and now he's acting like he's announcing that the morning paper has arrived. If I could stand up, I'd probably punch his teeth out. It's a tempting thought, since I'm fairly certain Taylor could probably kick my ass if he felt the need. At the very least I'd take a few good hits and get to give a few. The idea is incredibly appealing. _Why yes, I am a sick bastard._

"I'll just tell him to come see you up here," he finally says when I don't reply.

"Taylor," I warn, although I'm finding it hard to put the proper amount of authority into my tone. It seems being hunched over a toilet full of puke and bile is not exactly a prime position of power. "What don't you understand about 'tell them to fuck off'?" I snap.

"You'll have to tell him that yourself," he replies, still managing to sound nonplussed.

"_Fuck you, Taylor._ You're about to find your ass on the street. Go ahead. Send him up here! As much as I pay that bastard, he can afford to fix himself up after I tear him a new one."

"I'll have him wait ten minutes so you can get dressed, sir."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: *blushes* Yep, I'm a little embarrassed about flying off the handle. I'm not normally very dramatic IRL and I can't believe I let a troll/flamer get to me. I _really_ should know better. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they didn't actually report me, and if they did, I hope the site won't delete the story. If it happens, I may move it to AO3 or the other site mentioned by some of you. I have deleted my ranty chapter, which is definitely against the site rules. No point poking the bear. Thanks so much to all of you who showed your support. It means a lot. Not to sound like an attention hound, but it does make me feel validated that you guys don't think I'm some sort of sicko hater of women.

This isn't a very long chapter, but I wanted to get something out there on principal alone. Plus, I'll be traveling next week for work and may not be able to update.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I quickly brush my teeth, throw some water on my face, and get dressed before going downstairs. Dr. Flynn will not be seeing me in my bedroom like I'm some sort of invalid. I draw the line there. It is past time for me to take back control and stop wallowing like a child.

Dr. Flynn is in the kitchen, I can hear him chatting casually with Gail. Thankfully, I don't seem to be the topic of conversation. I would never tolerate that sort of interference from my staff. The fact that Dr. Flynn is currently drinking a cup of tea or coffee that she, no doubt, made for him is interference enough. She isn't supposed to be on duty today.

"Christian," he greets cheerfully as I enter the room. He's trying to make it sound like this is a social visit, but I can tell he's observing me closely for any signs of psychosis or whatever the fuck else. I'm not that stupid.

"You wanted to see me, John?" I smirk at him and try to look unaffected by his presence. "Why don't we step into my study? Just make this quick, I have some work I need to do."

"Of course," he says with a smile. Unlike most everyone else, the man refuses to be intimidated by me. Sometimes it is infuriating.

"How are you, Christian?" he asks once we're settled in my study and the door is closed behind us.

"I'm fine, John. I assume you're here because Taylor informed you I was a drunken fool last night. I suppose he felt the need to pay me back for my behavior. No doubt, he knew you'd charge me some exorbitant amount of money to make a house call."

"Mr. Taylor was concerned about you, Christian. I assure you there was no malice involved." He pauses and studies me carefully. I wish he wouldn't do that. "So, do you care to explain your sudden need to go on a bender?"

"I'm sure Taylor filled you in." _Why doesn't he just get to the point?_

"He merely indicated that I should meet with you. I suppose he felt you could fill me in on the details."

I am starting to feel enraged by all this prying and I'm glad for it. It is much more pleasant than the emptiness I was feeling.

"There are no details, John. I got drunk and acted like an ass. It won't happen again. Thank you for your concern," I say rather insincerely. "Now, I suggest you go spend Sunday with your family and leave me to my work."

He smirks at me and raises a brow. "Humor me, Christian. My exorbitant house call fees are charged in hourly increments. You may as well get your money's worth. We should at least have a chat, otherwise I'll feel like I'm stealing from you."

I realize I'm grinding my teeth and unclench my jaw. "What do you want to chat about? _Allow me to rephrase that_, what can I say to get you to leave me the hell alone?"

"Why don't you tell me where your weekend houseguest is? Anastasia, isn't it?"

_That fucker._

"She isn't here," I say as neutrally as I can manage. "We no longer have a contractual arrangement."

"Hmm," he remarks curiously as he takes a sip from his cup. "When did this happen?"

This man really is a smug son of a bitch, but I won't allow him to rattle me.

"Early yesterday morning. It happens. I'm sure it's for the best."

"Is it? I'm certain I sensed a special connection with this particular girl."

"She wanted to leave and she left. That's the way this works. Life goes on." _Or does it?_

"Sounds like you didn't want this contract to end. Am I right?"

"I couldn't force her to stay with me, John. Even my depravity has its limits."

"May I ask why she left?"

"No, you may not," I snap, "but I know you'll do it anyway. I went too far with a punishment and she decided she wanted out. She isn't cut out for this sort of thing. It's the risk I took when I became involved with someone outside of the life. I regret it, but there's nothing I can do about it. I intend to move on and I suggest you do the same." _Or I may punch you_, I add in my mind.

"Did she require medical treatment?" he asks carefully. Regardless of what he claims, the man obviously thinks I'm a monster. _He's right, I am._

"No, John! You'll be happy to know that I spilled no blood, broke no bones, and there will be no lasting scars or marks." I am shouting now. So much for regaining my control.

"Relax, Christian," he says mildly. "You said you went too far. I was merely trying to gauge your meaning."

I get up and start to pace around the room. I so badly want to get out of here and go running or perhaps hit the gym. But, I suppose there is a part of me that hopes Dr. Flynn can do something for me. There must be some reason I pay to keep him around.

"She asked me to show her how bad the punishments could be, so I used a cat of nine on her." I turn my back so I don't have to look at Dr. Flynn's face as I talk. "Believe it or not, I was trying to set her mind at ease, but things didn't turn out that way. She asked me to stop and I didn't… not until she used the safe word," I add bitterly.

"Why didn't you stop?"

God, I wish he wouldn't sound so bland about everything and just show the disgust I know he's feeling. The man may as well be talking about the weather.

"Because that's not how it works! She should have known that! Why else do we have safe words if a simple 'stop' would suffice? It's fucking obvious. If she'd just…" I trail off, clenching my fists. "Dammit, I'm so angry with her!"

Dr. Flynn remains silent for a moment before speaking again.

"It's obvious to you because you've had this type of relationship and _only_ this type of relationship since you were fifteen-years-old."

"The safe words are in the contract and I quizzed her on them just hours earlier. She knew the rules," I growl. Do I need to draw the man a picture?

He clears his throat and I know he's about to launch into one of his dry and boring, bullshit theories.

"Imagine, for instance, that you've purchased a new gadget. A brand new technology, something you've never seen before. You have no idea how it works and you're handed a user manual that's written in French. Would you say you should know how to operate it, that you _know the rules_, so to speak?"

"I happen to be quite fluent in French, John. So, yes, I'd say I could find my way." _Take that, smartass._

He gives me that infuriating, smug smile. "Touché. That was a bad example. Let's back up and imagine that the manual is written in Greek. I don't believe you know that one."

"_Your point?"_

"My point is that you can't hand someone a document that's written in a language they know nothing about and then expect them to understand the contents."

"The contract wasn't in Greek, or French for that matter," I spit out through gritted teeth. "It was most definitely in English, which just so happens to have been Miss Steele's major in college and she graduated with a 4.0. I'm sure she could read it just fine."

"Yes, but did she understand it?"

I don't answer him. I know what he's getting at and I refuse to believe that it's true. I told Ana to ask me questions. I told her to do the damn research! What else was I supposed to do?

"How did you feel when she asked you to stop?" he asks, changing tactics. He's trying to throw me off balance with this shit. "Did you even consider it?"

"Part of me wanted to," I say and it's true. Her tears disturbed me in a way I've never experienced before. A part of me that Elena would, no doubt, call weak wanted to stop immediately, apologize, and try to comfort her. I turn around and direct my most intimidating glare in Dr. Flynn's direction, hoping to shut him up. I can't keep talking about this. "What's done is done and there's no going back," I state as coldly as I can manage. "And though I'm sure you'll want to rehash this for months, I assure you it can wait until my next scheduled appointment. Taylor will have no need or reason to call on you before then. I give you my word."

"I'm not worried about that. I am sure you'll be back in top controlling form very soon. You'll throw yourself into your work and isolate yourself even further. _That's_ what concerns me, Christian. That young lady was good for you. She brought you into the world. Are you that certain there's no way to salvage the relationship? Perhaps you could take things in a different direction?"

"She left, John! What don't you understand about that?"

"That doesn't mean you can't go after her. She must have some feelings for you if she was willing to give your contract a go without any prior experience or knowledge of the BDSM lifestyle. Perhaps she'd be open to a renegotiation of sorts."

This man really does not understand what he's saying. I'm beginning to doubt his competency and frankly I'm disgusted with him.

"Do you honestly have no regard for anything aside from your obscenely large paycheck? Do you not care that you're suggesting a known predator should break and destroy an innocent young woman? Do you even have a conscience?"

"That's an interesting choice of words," he responds calmly. "Do you think you're a predator now?"

I've had it with the analysis and the psychobabble for the day. Why do all these bastards have to turn everything you say into a question? Honestly, a monkey could do their job. I speak very slowly in the hope that he may actually comprehend what I am saying.

"I am a Dom and Anastasia is not a sub. If I pursue her and continue to try and force her to be part of a lifestyle she has no interest in _that_ makes me a predator. You patronizing fuck!"

John actually looks amused. What is wrong with him?

"I very much agree," he says with a smile, "and I think it's very telling that you happen to see it that way as well. You care about this woman. You don't wish to see her harmed. I would daresay you may be falling in love with her."

"_John!" _

He ignores me and continues. He's brave, I'll give him that. Or maybe he's just extremely stupid.

"I'm not suggesting you try to be her Dom again, Christian. Not if that isn't what she wants. I'm suggesting you open yourself up to the possibility of a different type of relationship."

"I'm not capable of a different type of relationship! You know that better than anyone."

He stands up from his chair and straightens his clothing. He must finally be on his way out of here. Thank God.

"That's where we disagree," he says. "You don't know if you aren't capable, because you've never tried. If you wish to be with this girl, it is your only reasonable course of action. You have to decide what it is you want and work toward that goal, even if it means leaving your comfort zone. I very much doubt you'll be able to find contentment in your previous lifestyle. Not anymore. But you'll have to make that determination yourself."

XXXXXXXXXXX

I have been managing to get a good bit of work done the past few days. Although I am sure my employees wish I would stay home and get off their asses. If any of them had any doubt that I was a coldhearted bastard, I'm sure they've let go of it by now.

It isn't surprising that I am able to push my personal life aside and concentrate on doing my job. I've spent a lot of years cultivating my self-control. My work is extremely empty though. I cannot even muster the slightest bit of enthusiasm for the huge profit one of my subsidiaries just reported. That company was struggling when I took it over, and I usually get some measure of satisfaction when I manage to turn things around so drastically.

The bid I approved for the purchase of SIP, on the other hand, did grab my interest. Seems I can't resist meddling in Anastasia's affairs. I tell myself that it is only to assure her safety and security, but I know myself better than that. It is a way to maintain some sort of tie to her and a measure of control. Even if I'm never able to touch her again, I will at least know where she is and can make sure that she is paid and treated well.

I can't stop thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her and I torture myself by sleeping in her bed where her scent still lingers. Every time the phone rings or an email comes in I think it's her, which is ridiculous since she didn't even take her computer when she left. At times I find I can't even breathe. I literally feel like someone is stabbing me in the chest and compressing my lungs. I thought it would go away after a day or two, but it hasn't. I am beginning to think it never will.

I call Sawyer often so he can give me an update on her security. At least that provides some link to her. Leila still hasn't been spotted. I'm not sure if that is good news or bad. I'd feel more at ease if I knew where she was.

Ana didn't leave her apartment and no one visited over the weekend, not even a pizza delivery boy. I was highly tempted to go break her door down to make sure she was okay and had something to eat. If she hadn't shown herself Monday morning when she went to work, I would have done so regardless of how angry it made her.

It drives me insane that she's been riding the bus to work. I've had to expand her security team to ensure she is not fondled by some jackass while she's on there. She'd recognize Sawyer in an instant and I can't risk that. I'll put half the city on the payroll if I have to.

Ana would most likely see my actions as stalking, and she'd probably be correct in her assessment. I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have her under this much surveillance even if Leila wasn't in the picture. I am not a normal man. She would be better off if I held onto my resolve and left her alone. But is it even possible for me to stay away from her?

As the week wears on, I am afraid I must admit that the answer is 'no'. Miss Steele is stuck with me. As much as her happiness and wellbeing means to me, I am still a very selfish man at my core. I have to have her back, which means I'll have to consider John's proposal. I certainly can't kidnap her and force her to be mine. I've never forced a woman and I won't start now. That would make me no better than some of the men my mother kept around. As horrible as I am, I can't allow myself to stoop that low and I can't hurt Ana again. She deserves better. She deserves a better man, period. The problem is that I don't think I'm capable of allowing her to find one. The very idea of it makes my blood boil.

My only alternative is to pretend to be a decent man. I'll send her flowers, play her sappy love songs, and try to find some way to persuade her to obey me without punishments, at least when it comes to the important things. Deep inside, I'll never be someone she deserves. I'll never be that decent man, but I can act like I am. I've fooled the world before. I'll apply the same ruthlessness and discipline to getting her back as I did to gaining my fortune. She'll never know the difference, she'll never know she's with a monster, and she'll be safe and happy if I have to kill someone to accomplish it.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: It's been a while since I've update, I know *hangs head*. RL has been a bear in many different ways, plus writer's block bit me. I've decided to go with a split POV sort of thing - both Ana and Christian alternating. Hope it works. Probably won't get to update again until after the holidays because of the craziness that is Xmas. Hope you all enjoy this bit of drama I've cooked up. Thanks for reading!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

During one of her particularly philosophical flannel pajama phases, Kate once told me that a break-up was a lot like grieving for a loved one who has died. According to her, a person goes through all the classic stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. I'm not sure of the wisdom of that yet, but I have been rather erratically going through those first four stages all week, with particular emphasis on the depression part.

This morning, I woke up on the angry side of the bed. I'm hoping my work day goes smoothly, because it wouldn't be good for me to lose my temper during my first week on the job.

I know something is up the very second I step through the door, because Claire is beaming at me from reception, almost bouncing in her seat with barely contained excitement.

"Who is it?" she demands to know. "Who is this wonderful, romantic prince charming with obviously deep pockets and expensive taste?"

I think I'm going to pass out. I don't know what, but I know who, and I am already feeling very bitter for barely 8:45 A.M. Then I am forced to face Jack Hyde. Ugh! I've tried to ignore it, but I have gotten a strange vibe from him all week and now he has stepped out of his office and is standing there trying to look amused, but I can sense an undercurrent of anger and irritation. I've gotten damn good at picking up on _that_ vibe from men. Wonder how?

"Good morning, Ana," he greets with a forced smile. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't," I say truthfully. Never really have, I add to myself. "Guys, you're making me a little nervous. What's going on here?"

Jack visibly relaxes and his smile becomes more genuine. "You've had quite the special delivery this morning, Ana. Sweetie, I'm afraid you have a secret admirer on your hands. Or maybe a stalker?" he adds, making a sympathetic frown. Why do I doubt his sincerity?

I don't bother with any more pleasantries; I simply head straight for my small office as fast as my sneakers will carry me. If there's an Audi parked in there, I'm going to show one Christian Grey what it looks like to go thermonuclear.

Flowers. Christian has sent me flowers. An obscene, embarrassing, boatload of flowers. I can barely see the floor or the desk. And to my new job no less! I can't believe the nerve of the man!

There are roses of almost every color imaginable. All perfect, lab created specimens no doubt. All displayed in ornately carved lead crystal vases, each worth more than my first paycheck will be.

I'm so humiliated. How could he do this? How could he make such a spectacle during my very first week of work? I guess he doesn't know nor care that I am pretty much out of any money I had left from my job at Claytons and I haven't yet had the heart to cash the check for my car. It seems like hush money. It is far too much. I _need_ this paycheck. I may not have been eating much lately, but eventually I'm going to have to start.

I turn around to see Jack and a still-excited Claire standing just behind me.

"I'm so sorry about all this, Jack," I mumble, my face turning bright red. Then I feel unwelcome tears springing up and it enrages me. I am not crying today! I promised myself I wouldn't when I woke up this morning. I'm angry today. There is no crying on angry day! It's a rule.

"Your stalker theory might not be far off the mark," I snap bitterly to stave off the tears.

If I am not mistaken, Jack looks happy. Wow, I think I may hate all men.

"Oh Ana," he says in what he probably thinks is a properly shocked tone. "That's terrible, honey! You just let me know if you need anything from me. I can have deliveries restricted, no unapproved visitors, whatever would make you feel comfortable. We're a family here."

I force myself to smile and laugh it off. I've just realized that this is not someone whose 'help' I want.

"It's not a big deal. I'll talk to him. He just goes overboard. Trust me, I'll take care of it. Sorry I caused so much drama in here this morning. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll get to work and make sure all of this is cleaned out, okay?"

"I'll send someone from maintenance," Jack offers helpfully. "That's an awful lot of flowers for one little girl to move out all by herself."

My inner goddess, whom I thought was dead, suddenly pops up in a panic. _Not our flowers_, she begs. _Don't let them throw away our beautiful flowers! He's showing us he cares._

Really? She's that stupid? I don't even need my subconscious for this one. This in no way means that he cares. It means, he thinks he can buy me and he's only interested because it has been five days and I haven't gone running back to him. I am a challenge. A novelty. Nothing more. He would have stopped beating me if there was more.

"Thank you, Jack," I say, accepting his offer with a firm nod. _Take that, you week-willed ninny._

That seems to put a spring in the boss' step as he strides away to make the arrangements, no doubt. Poor Claire, however, looks disappointed. I suppose she was hoping for a more romantic ending to this tale.

"Those are awfully pretty roses," she observes wistfully.

"Would you like a vase for your desk?" I offer, trying my best to sound casual about it.

"Bad breakup?" she asks gently. Damn her. I'd pretty much derailed the tears until she had to go and be perceptive.

"Claire, I can't…"

She lowers her brows and bites her bottom lip (apparently I'm not the only one who does that). She edges back toward the doorway, obviously ready to make her escape before the waterworks get started.

"_Sorry," _she says, holding her hands up in front of her. "Listen, you don't know me. I understand. I'll leave you alone, unless you need to talk. I've had plenty of bad breakups, so I've probably been there, done that."

_Doubt that. _

"Thanks," I manage to get out, shaking my head.

"Okay," she nods. "Just call me if you need anything." Unlike Jack, at least she does actually appear to be sorry.

Once alone, I lean my back against the closed door and hesitate a moment before locking it and sinking down to the floor in front of it.

It is probably not cool to lock the door in your office on the first week at a new job, but I _really_ need to feel secure in my privacy right now. Damn Christian! What on earth is wrong with him? Does he need to take this from me too?

The perfumey scent of all the roses is overwhelming with the door shut. I find it difficult to breathe, especially since I'm trying my best to cry silently. Thank God I didn't wear any makeup this morning. At least I won't have to worry about smudged mascara. One small positive in a sea of negative.

Once my tears trail off, I force myself to my feet and wipe my face off with my hands. There is a box of tissues on my desk and I hope I can make it to the bathroom fairly unnoticed to splash some cold water on my face before maintenance shows up to haul away this mess.

My office is very small, but it's still seems as if I'm navigating a labyrinth to get to my desk. The little metal rings on my sneakers hit the crystal vases and ring out like dozens of tiny bells. It is maddening. By the time I make it to my chair I'm exhausted. Then I'm faced with what is undoubtedly a card and a little blue box with the words _Tiffany & Co._ engraved across the top.

My hands are shaking as I pick up the tiny envelope. The card is small, the kind that typically comes attached to a gift. It is plain, a pearly white, and perfectly matches the lettering on the jewelry box. Inside is a simple, typed message.

_Anastasia,_

_You may have it all._

_Christian_

Well, that's fittingly and infuriatingly cryptic. Now, I suppose I have to open the jewelry box.

I am kind of blown away when I do. It is a necklace, a heart-shaped pendant to be precise. I've seen plenty that are similar in a knock-off sort of way. This is, no doubt, the original. It is very delicate, white gold, encrusted in diamonds, and appears to be handmade. I can't even begin to guess what it may have cost.

I can't breathe. Between the roses and the shock, I am afraid I may blackout. If I had received this a week ago, I'd have been over the moon. Now, I'm just numb. I don't know what to think.

Quite obviously, the message is: hearts and flowers. I can have them both. I can 'have it all'. But I don't _feel_ it. No matter how much my goddess is currently begging to be allowed to rejoice, I can't let myself believe it just because I want to. I can't be that girl again. It is time to grow up.

_Look at the hard evidence, Steele,_ my subconscious reminds me. _This man has nearly unlimited resources, the over-the-top monetary display means nothing to him. It is far less significant than your morning bus fare is to you. He couldn't even be bothered to sign the damn card. You are only a possession. A possession that has chosen to walk away. He simply does not want to lose. That's all. You know this! You saw the proof of that last weekend._

She's right. Nothing has changed. There's not a shred of warmth in this, it is just yet another display of wealth and power. It is a good thing I am cried out for the day, because I need to get to work. Some people actually depend on their paychecks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I have waited on pins and needles for what feels like days, although I know it has been barely two hours. I am not a patient man. Why hasn't she called? Or at least sent an email by now?

The delivery arrived. I confirmed it personally. I phoned SIP myself and spoke with the receptionist, a pleasant-sounding lady named Claire (her background check has already come back clean). I posed as someone from the delivery service, who was simply interested in insuring that the items arrived safely, seeing as the jewelry was insured for such a large amount (it wasn't). The pendant was very expensive, but I don't give a fuck about the money.

Still nothing.

Sawyer's team assures me she rode the bus per usual and arrived a bit early. There is only one explanation. Anastasia is ignoring me. How dare she do that? I have never made such a spectacle of myself over anyone. The least she can do is acknowledge my existence. I am in agony here.

The phone buzzes. _Shit._ It's Andrea. The team is assembled for the daily 11A.M. status meeting, no doubt (which I am never late for) and I'm sure she is calling to see if I have died unexpectedly.

"I am on my way, Andrea," I snap into the phone as I stand. The poor woman has had to bear far too much of my sharp tongue lately, but I do pay her far more than her position normally calls for. Perhaps I'll find an excuse to give her some sort of bonus anyway. A spa package or some nonsense.

On my way to the conference room, I compose and reject several emails to Miss Steele in my head. I must hold my temper. Angry is not the way to go (must hide the real you, a nasty voice whispers).

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jose just called to remind me of his gallery opening tomorrow. I had _completely_ forgotten about it. He was very disappointed when I explained that I had no car and no way of getting to Portland. He asked about the Audi, of course, and I ended up being a bit snappy with him when he wouldn't take 'evasive' for an answer. Honestly, I wish one male, aside from my father, would show some genuine concern for me. I have really become jaded over the past five days.

It is lunchtime and I decide to take a walk. There's a deli nearby and I have been living off of their lattes. Perhaps today I should try to add solid food to that repertoire? Why not? I feel like I've made a few steps in the right direction today.

I did away with the obscene display of roses (with the help of maintenance) and got a little work done. I did, however, hold on to the overpriced jewelry. I am not insensitive enough to the cost of things to just throw something like that away. The roses would have died soon, but I can't just throw the jewelry out in good conscience. Christian can give that to a charity or whatever else he wishes to do with it. If he throws it away, that decision is on him.

_He can give it to his next sub_, my subconscious snarks.

Yeah, that still hurts. I haven't made _that_ much progress, thank you very much.

The question of how to get it to him remains. The mail seems the safest (for me), although I doubt I could afford to have the thing insured for what it's actually worth. Not my problem though. I didn't ask him for it. I'll have it sent back to Escala with one of those little receipts where it has to be signed for, that way there will be no question and it will be out of my hands. I'll do that tomorrow. There may be a post office within walking distance of the office, but I'll have to Google it first.

XXXXXXXXXX

My breath catches in my throat as I spot her coming around the corner. She is paying no attention to her surroundings. None whatsoever. My mentally disturbed ex-sub or any other psycho could easily snatch her off the street. The number one rule of self-defense is to always be aware of one's surroundings. It terrifies me to see how distracted she is. How nonchalant she is about the world. This isn't the relatively small city of Vancouver, Washington and it certainly is not that backwoods hovel, Montesano. She _needs_ to have security following her every move!

Then I see her eyes. They are huge in her face and her jeans are hanging off of her hips where they usually hug her soft curves. She is gorgeous, as always, but looks more like one of those starving, waiflike, heroin chic, supermodels than my lovely, healthy girl. This is my doing. No one has to tell me otherwise. Why did Sawyer fail to inform of this? Why did she allow me, of all people, to affect her like this? She is better than that.

"Anastasia!" I snap, stepping out of the back of the car and up onto the curb quite quickly, blocking her path down the sidewalk. Her pale skin goes ghostly and I wish to kick myself. _Think, Grey!_

"_Christian_," she gasps. She looks horrified, completely shocked. Of course, I did beat her with a cat of nine the last time we met.

What the hell am I supposed to say? My well-thought-out speech is scattered now. So much for controlling the moment. Not a single second of this day has gone to plan.

"What are you doing here?" she asks in a shaky voice. Shaky, but incredibly cold. How can she sound so cold? It is not her. Not my Ana.

I glance down at the neckline of the plain, rather broken-in, mauve blouse she is wearing. There is no pendant. I find I'm not as surprised as I thought I would be.

"Did you get my flowers?" I ask quietly. Stupid question.

"Yes, but just barely. I nearly overlooked them. It was such a small, understated display."

God, how I've missed that smart mouth. I can't help but crack a smile.

"Touché, Miss Steele. That may have been a bit over-the-top, but I never do anything half-measure. I had to get your attention somehow. I've missed you a great deal. More than you know," I admit. "Let me take you to lunch. We need to talk. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

I know the anger is seeping into my voice when I broach the subject of her eating habits, and I have to fight to keep my hand at my side and not drag her into the back of the car, force feed, and then fuck her until neither of us can breathe. Once again, this young woman tests the very limits of my carefully cultivated self-control.

She meets my gaze and there is the familiar, exhilarating defiance, but there's something else too.

Tears.

She is holding back tears and, if I'm not mistaken, it would not be the first time she has cried today. There is a slight puffiness around her otherwise sunken-in eyes. I don't understand. I gave her what I thought she wanted. The hearts _and_ the flowers.

"Mr. Grey," she says, raising her chin and letting the tears fall freely. "You may not appreciate it, but allow me to give you a lesson in humanity. I am an idiot," she says, pointing to herself. "You are gorgeous, fascinating, charming when you want to be, you know everything there is to know about sex, and for some reason you were interested in me. I fell in love with you."

I gasp audibly. A part of me suspected, but I didn't actually believe it. Not deep down. But hearing it, that is another thing entirely. It staggers me. But, she ignores me and plows ahead.

"I signed your stupid contract just to be with you, because you said there was no other way and I thought it might never happen for me again. I repeat, _I am an idiot._"

"Anastasia," I say. I just want to take her in my arms. I know I am incapable of giving love, but I selfishly want hers anyway, and I'll do everything in my power to give her the world's best imitation of it in return.

"Let me finish for once, Christian," she growls.

Tears are flowing freely down her face and I'm sure we're making quite the spectacle. For her sake, I hope no one from the papers is watching. For my own, I really could care less.

"You want me because you can't have me, because I left and you always get what you want. I am like a company that is not for sale, but I am a person, Mr. Grey. Try to remember that if you can. Your ego may be bruised, but I have actual feelings that are shattered. Now, I am asking that you please leave me alone. Please do not send any more obscene displays to my brand new job. I can't afford to lose this position, Christian! I don't have a zillion dollars in the bank!"

"Ana, I assure you, you will not lose your job," I promise her soothingly (I own the place for God's sake). "It was never my intention to upset you." _My God, women are strange creatures_.

"Goodbye, Christian," she says, turning on her heels.

It is a reflex. I cannot stand to watch her walk away from me again, especially not when she is in this condition. She must let me take care of her. I can't let her go now that I am so close after not seeing her for the five longest, loneliest days of my life. I reach out and grab her just above the elbow and attempt to draw her forward into my arms.

She slaps me with her free hand, right across the cheek and hard.

"Don't touch me," she spits. She jerks her arm free and then she's gone, dodging through foot traffic like her life depends on getting away from the monster behind her.

What am I supposed to do now?


	22. Chapter 22

I can't do it. I can't go back to work in this condition. What on earth am I supposed to do? I can't afford to lose this job, but there is no way I can walk back in there after seeing Christian and pretend that everything is okay. I would need at least an hour if I were to have any hope of composing myself and I have maybe fifteen minutes left before my lunch hour is over. This is what I get for wasting half of it moping at my desk. I should have gotten up to walk earlier, then maybe I wouldn't have run into Christian at all.

_Like that was even a possibility. You know good and well he has been staking you out all morning, just waiting for you to show yourself._

Crap, of course he has! I can't even think straight. What the hell am I going to do?

There is a bus rolling to a stop just yards ahead of me and I briefly consider getting on, but I have no idea what its route is and the last thing I want to do is ride aimlessly around unknown parts of Seattle for hours. No, I'll have to keep walking to my regular stop. Hopefully, I won't have to wait too long for a bus to come along. As far as I can remember, there are fairly regular stops there during the workweek. If I do have to wait, I suppose I can use the time to come up with a plausible excuse for not going back to work. Like there is a plausible excuse during one's first week on a job.

At least Christian hasn't followed me (not that I can tell, anyway). Hopefully, my nearly hysterical and very public show of emotion set him back on his heels temporarily.

_I wouldn't worry about him anymore_, my subconscious says snidely. _I am sure he's finally realized you are far more trouble than you're worth. THE Christian Grey doesn't need an ego boost this badly. I am fairly certain he does not want any of this turning up in the society pages. Those headlines would be difficult to explain to his shareholders. So, stop being a child and go back to work, Miss Steele! He's gotten this foolishness out of his system and will now most certainly go and find a suitable and discreet sub to meet his "special needs"._

I really am my own worst enemy, because that thought fills me with a new, crippling wave of misery that is even worse than the last. I can't breathe! I have to get off these streets and away from all these people bustling by on the sidewalk, going about their day like everything is perfectly normal. Briefly, I wonder what they'd do if I just started screaming. Would they even notice? Would they lock me up? Or would they just keep on doing their thing like they are now?

A recessed storefront provides me with a place to press my back against a brick wall and catch my breath.

Then he's there, right in front of me. His hands on my arms, making me feel pinned against what was seconds ago my safe haven from the crowded sidewalk. His grey eyes are stormy and his cheeks ruddy. He is somewhat out of breath and his expensive tailored jacket is rumpled.

"Christian," I gasp. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?" he asks, throwing the question back at me angrily. "You can't just run off like that. You scared the life out of me. We nearly lost sight of you. What are you thinking?"

"_We?"_ What does he mean _we_? Is he having me followed?

"Don't start this nonsense with me, Anastasia. Seattle is a dangerous place for you," he dictates in his most authoritarian tone. "I am still unable to locate Leila. The woman is unstable! No matter how much you may detest me, I won't allow her to harm you."

Oh, if I were only able to detest him, if things were only that easy. How dare he?

"I am not a child, Mr. Grey," I remind him, swatting his hands off of me and taking several steps sideways. "In fact, I was a grown woman with a budding career until you ruined that for me this morning, by first causing a spectacle and then ensuring that I was in no shape to return to the office this afternoon. I realize you can come and go as you please, but it is generally frowned upon when us little folk flake out and ditch work during their very first week on the job."

Now he is smiling. It dawns on me - he is completely insane. He may be outrageously gorgeous with that panty busting grin and mussed up hair of his, but he is most definitely insane.

"I have missed your smart mouth, Miss Steele," he says as he tries to gracefully stalk in closer.

My body practically melts and begins oozing toward him before I catch myself.

"No, Christian," I say holding up a hand to ward him off (or possibly to ward myself off). "I told you not to touch me. I meant it."

For a brief moment he looks devastated, but he quickly covers it with a smirk, smoothing the jacket he's wearing over a simple white linen shirt with perfectly manicured hands.

"I am sorry, Anastasia. You make me forget myself. Besides, I wouldn't want to be assaulted again."

I narrow my eyes and start to tear into him with a verbal tirade filled with who knows what. Funny that he would accuse me of assaulting him. Before I can get the first word out, he halts me with outstretched palms of surrender.

"You're right. That was a bad joke. Let's start this conversation over. Ana, I promise you are in no danger of losing your position at SIP, please stop fretting over it."

Oh my God, he didn't. Please tell me he did not somehow wield his undue influence and interfere with my job, because - so help me - I will kill him.

"What did you do?" I ask in a voice that is much more composed than I am feeling at the moment.

He blinks back at me guiltily. It is almost comical. He looks like a child who's been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I can almost see the gears turning in his mind as he struggles to come up with something plausible.

"What do you mean?" he asks carefully, trying hard to sound innocent and failing miserably. Surely his business poker face is better than this.

I let out a rather hysterical laugh and throw my hands up. "What do you think I mean? You sound awfully certain about the state of my job. You know, the one you promised not to interfere in? Are you suddenly psychic or are you using your massive powers of influence and obscene bank account to pull strings at my company? Let me guess. You cornered the market on every single source of paper in the free world and threatened not to allow SIP to print one single page if they fire me?"

Christian has gone from guilty little boy to a confident man with a devilish grin. He obviously seems to think he's found a way off the hook.

"No, Miss Steele," he laughs, "I can promise you that I have not made recent inroads into the lucrative international paper market, although I love hearing your conspiracy theories. You have a very active imagination. Have you ever considered writing yourself, rather than wasting your talents editing other people's work?"

"Don't change the subject, Christian. I know what you're trying to do. You've interfered in my career somehow and I don't like it. I want it to stop."

He looks genuinely wounded and actually pouts. "I have not. You got the job on your own merits and are keeping it on them. I'm only trying to assure that you won't be losing it because of anything I may have done to throw you off track today."

"And you'll be assuring that how, exactly?"

"With my massive powers of influence and obscene bank account, of course," he replies with a sly grin, throwing my own words back at me.

"_Christian,"_ I groan, but don't really have much else to say. It is hard to come up with a good counter argument when someone is that upfront with their own ridiculousness. I have a nagging feeling there is something I don't know, but Mr. Grey is being his usual evasive self.

"Ana, please just hear me out," he pleads, looking hopeful. "We need to talk." He reaches out to touch me, but seems to remember himself and pulls back his hands at the last minute and runs them through his hair instead.

I sigh and sag back against the cold brick of the wall, closing my eyes. No wonder this man never fails in business. It is likely he badgers his poor opponents to death. They probably sell him their companies just so they can get some rest.

"There's nothing to talk about, Christian. We're too different. We want completely different things in life. I can't be the woman you want… and I don't want to be that woman," I admit, opening my eyes to look at him and finding him watching me intensely, searching my face. "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I tried. You're the only man I ever loved and I might never love anyone ever again, but I still can't. I can't be your sub. It will destroy me, Christian. I can't do it."

He shoves his hands in his jeans' pockets. I think he is trying not to touch me and my goddess tries to stir at that realization, but I stamp her back down. Christian's brows are drawn together as he gazes at me. His pain really does seem to echo mine, at least I want to think it does. Then again, everywhere I look I see pain these days.

"Ana, I am so sorry I made you feel that way. It was never my intent. You are the very last person I ever wanted to harm. The thought of destroying what makes you Ana is repugnant to me. You have to believe I don't want that. I want _you_. I want you back. I need you back. Please give me another chance. I'll give you everything. The roses were every color imaginable, baby. Didn't you notice? And the jewelry… Can't you guess what that means?"

_Say it, Christian,_ I pray internally. If there's any chance any of that meant what I hope, just say it. But he doesn't and I can't afford to be naïve. After all, he didn't even sign the stupid card. It wasn't even handwritten. _It was typed and probably by his secretary_, my subconscious adds helpfully.

"I have to go," I say, standing up straighter. This is no time to get drawn in. I am far too fragile right now, that much is certain. I cannot afford to let my heart lead me again or I will end up in the same position I was in before.

"Anastasia, don't," he says, a note of command seeping back into his tone. It is just as well, it gives me the strength I need.

"Yes, Christian. I need to go. I'm going back to work. I will make up some sort of excuse for being late back from lunch and I will probably be completely useless for the rest of the day, but I am going back to work today."

"What do I have to do?" he asks in frustration. He is standing arms akimbo, his broad shoulders blocking much of the recessed entryway that leads back to the sidewalk.

"You need to let me get by please, Mr. Grey, so I can finish my walk up the block," I say as politely as I can.

I can't help but smile when his polite upbringing kicks-in and he automatically steps aside, and then scowls and curses under his breath for having done so.

"Have a good day, Christian," I say, feeling a bit more cheerful. I have no idea what the future holds, but unlike our last meeting, I don't feel like this is a final goodbye.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Christian have you taken leave of your senses?"

I am rarely surprised, but I will have to admit that Dr. John Flynn has shocked me this time.

"Fuck you, John! I know we like to keep things casual between us, but isn't it frowned upon when psychiatrists make light of their crazier patient's psychological issues."

He just laughs, the smarmy bastard.

"Really, Christian. If I thought you were truly crazy, I would do no such thing. I am merely trying to point out that proposing marriage to this young lady is a tad bit overzealous given the current circumstances. You already made one grand gesture and it failed to go over as planned. What makes you think an even grander one is the proper direction for act two?"

"Because she doesn't believe I'm sincere!" I emphasize. "She seems to think this is all about my ego… that I only want her because she is playing hard to get and I still want her to be my sub. If she realizes that I would be more than proud to show her to the world as my wife, she will have to accept the truth."

"And what is the truth?" he asks, pausing in his scribbling to look up at me. I swear these bastards have more questions than answers.

"That she is more," I bite out. I am getting tired of repeating myself to this man. "She is everything to me."

"You love her," Dr. Flynn observes casually. "Why not just tell her that? It sounds like she told you, and since I realize dating is not your area of expertise, allow me tell you what is expected when that word is trotted out into the light of day. One, you either reciprocate with an 'I love you, too' or you two, say 'I'm sorry, but we are better off as friends'. It is very simple, Christian. A marriage proposal is not generally required at this stage of the game. Not in this day in time."

"You know I can't tell her that," I growl back at him. "It would be obscene."

"Why not?" he asks with a raised brow. "Because you are incapable of love? Do you really still believe that rot?"

"Look at what I did to her, John. I'm fucked up! A man who loves her would never do that. She was inexperienced at being a sub, a decent man would have double checked to ensure she had not forgotten her safe word, but I kept beating her instead, _because I am a sick fuck!_ I should leave her alone and never bother her again. If I didn't have such a strong faith in my own self-control, I would. But, I know I'll never strike her again and I won't."

"You mean you have vowed to never physically harm her again, even consensually. How do you feel about that?"

"I could give a damn about that!" I snap back. "I have no desire to do it, anyway. The very idea of it makes me sick!"

He smirks at me and starts scribbling away. I hate it when he does that. As much as I pay him, I really should demand to see those files he keeps on me. I think the only reason I don't, is because I'm afraid of what I may read in them. I suppose even a deviant freak like myself has a bit of hope for themselves tucked somewhere in the back of their mind. If I saw those scratchings, even that may be dashed forever.

"So, you've no wish to dominate this girl?" he finally asks after a moment.

I sigh. Here is the rub. I am still me, fifty shades of fucked up, after all. "I need her to obey me," I admit. "If I am her husband, perhaps she will be more inclined to see things my way. She is driving me insane with all this running around not caring about her own safety or even eating a decent meal. She needs me to look after her."

John laughs again, the limey bastard.

"Of course you still wish to control her. You had me worried for a moment there. I thought you'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with a pod person."

"Glad I can entertain you," I say, trying hard not to lose my temper at this point. "That is what I pay you for."

"I'm sorry, Christian," he says, sounding sincere. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm honestly not. Believe it or not, I am happy for you, _very_ happy for you. That is the reason for the laughter and the bit of teasing. You're making a great deal of progress, more than you've made since I've known you and it pleases me a great deal to see it. Despite what you may believe about yourself, you do deserve happiness. But, you still have a long way to go. This girl, this Anastasia of yours… she does not sound like the type that wishes to be controlled by you. That is a good thing for you, Christian. You are going to have to find a way to deal with that as an adult in a real relationship. I doubt you'll listen to me, but my professional opinion is that she is not going to agree to being your obedient wife any time soon."

"We'll see about that," I say simply.

John may be partially right. Ana will no doubt prove challenging, she always is. But I am a man used to getting what I want, and I want Miss Anastasia Rose Steele to become the one and only Mrs. Grey. Mine now and forever. She is my top priority and I don't lose.


End file.
